Heroes Forged: Legion Rising
by Jakyll
Summary: Follow two brothers as they journey from home into a besieged Mojave Wasteland under the flag of the NCR. The two start a fight against a new Legion force that defies any last hope of holding Hoover Dam. Updates every few days. Please Rate and Review.
1. 1: Prologue

_I lay no claim to Bethesda's Fallout Universe, including characters and locations. I only wish to claim my own original characters that I will not have used without my permission. The following is rated M for harsh language, references to violence, and anything else I may have missed.  
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**Prologue- Freedom's First Steps**

"You die now human!" The super mutant roared as its minigun barrels started rotating, the start of a maelstrom of lead that would continue on for some time unless something was done by the two humans pinned down about fifteen meters away.

The two humans, both male and both requiring a change in pants, we're yelling useless conversation at one another, most of it was an unintelligible string of curses. The two were on opposite sides of a trash and debris filled corridor, backs to the large and useful pillars that lined the complex but are slowly eroding under the lead waves that buffeted them. The only exit was forty five meters behind the massive humanoid figure, a T section splitting behind him.

The corridor ended in a large rusted metal door, which was locked tightly lead rounds impacting it to no avail either, the rounds falling uselessly to the floor. The console to unlock it well within sight of the super mutant that was currently raining hell on them. One of the men shouted about the roar of bullets,

"Any bright ideas?"

"Fuckin, no..." came the reply.

The minigun's deadly barrage neared the pillar of the second man who had spoken. The man got as far away from the open hallway as he could. His partner had pulled out his 9mm pistol, taking the opportunity to peek around the corner and fire off five rounds at the mutant.

Three of the shots hitting the metal armor on its midriff, one clipping its arm, and the last missing entirely. Roaring in response to this resistance, the super mutant swing his massive weapon towards the attacker. The second man saw this opening and swung his .32 caliber revolver around the corner and got two shots off before mutant turned back to him. Both rounds missed by inches in the man's panic to return to the haven of the corner, his trigger discipline forgotten.

The mutant now turned its attention to the second man again, and the first fired again, a burst of four shots this time, each one connecting higher up the super mutant's burlesque body, but only two shots connected to flesh, and even then the wounds were shallow due to the unnatural thickness of the mutant's body. Once again, the mutant screamed and the cornea of death the minigun covered switched to the first man's pillar.

Not two heartbeats after the mutant had its attention transfixed on the pillar did the second human pop out again, discharging the last three rounds in his revolver. The first round bounced harmlessly off the mini gun's frame, the second connected into the center of the right elbow joint, stopping at the bone. The final round rammed into the second, and shattered the right arm of the mutant. A crippling blow.

The mutant's right arm stopped carrying the heavy weapon and dropped it onto the floor. Operating off of sheer muscle, it picked the end back up, now aiming at the first human that had turned the corner to fire at the mutant again. The machine rotated, but the mini gun stopped spitting death. The mutant had fired for too long and had to reload. It had not realized this as it started shaking its weapon.

The human fired the last two shots from his last clip into the mutants throat. The sheer thickness of the mutant's neck stopped these from being kill shots. It roared back in defiance, tossing the mini gun to the ground and started a head-on charge. The first human was caught by surprise and chose to go back into the corner, out of sight.

The mutant closed the fifteen meters quickly in a mad dash, too quickly in fact. The human in which he had charged at head on swung a hefty plank of wood at ankle level to the mutant before it could stop completely, breaking the impacting edge into a rain of splinters. It continued moving, rolling onto the floor gracelessly and slamming it's back into the metal door. The second human jumped atop the mutant, using his fists to pound into the super mutant's face. Blows connected with enough force to cause the mutant's head to snap back into the tile and turn different shades of green with each hit. Unfortunately, the mutant was still wide awake and decked the human who had the nerve to punch it in the face.

As the second human flew away from the crippled mutant and the door, the first human approached brandishing the same hunk of wood, the end of it now splintered into a very deadly stabbing utensil. The human managed to lodge this end into the mutants chest, while it tried to avoid the blow. The human continued to drive the board in, his right hand pushing the board back even deeper, dark blood started pouring out of the wound as the long splinters reached around the ribcage into the lungs and heart. A spike of adrenaline caused the mutant to throw the board out of its chest, the end of the improvised weapon popping against the man's face and sending him to join his partner on the floor.

The mutant stood up out of sheer will, blood pooling around it, as it started coughing up large gobs of blood. Splinters poked out of its chest where blood ran in fountains.

"Will kill you.." and a few steps was all it managed as it threw up a full pint of blood, staggered to its right, and collapsed onto its face, audible cracking could be heard, either from the wood in its chest breaking, or its nose. Perhaps both.

The two humans stared at the dead mutant for a few seconds longer, then the first man finally spoke up.

"You pissed your pants too, right?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Came the curt reply, his attention trying not to fall to his sodden trousers. "Can you get that door open before more show up? This guy's bound to have buddies nearby."

"Yeah, sure." The first of the two moved slowly to the console and pulled a slip of paper from one of the various pockets of his clothes consisting of brown pre-war boots, dark jeans with a pair of extra sewed in pockets and pistol holster on his belt, a navy blue undershirt that was tight against his tall and fit physique. This along with an unzipped leather vest with clip holders sewn in that hosted nothing at the moment, his 9mm ammunition depleted in this last firefight.

This six foot-five inch man with black hair that dropped just above his eyes was known as Leon Durant, usually allowing himself to be called 'Leo' by those who know him. He's inexperienced in the ways of the world outside of the town he grew up in, a small, almost tribal village south of the Mojave outpost that guards the way to New Vegas. He takes pride in his hardy nature and can prove charismatic when if he wanted to talk to you. The only thing he never seemed to have on his side was luck. He stood out in his community, quite literally because he was adopted and did not inherit the town of Ira's average height of five feet, ten inches. Instead he stood at Six feet and five.

The second man, taking this opportunity to take all of the mutant's 5mm ammunition and scour the floor for the cases, was known as Rhoke Griddly, but he goes by Durant now a days. Standing at exactly six feet and dressed in NCR combat boots, brown jeans, and a white T-shirt now specked with blood. The heavy handed, stout young man with slicked back brown hair contained an intelligence and endurance that came with success, this had eventually landed him the job of working the ammo presses for the town. His father was a drunk that had constantly beaten him. After enduring years after years this abuse from his father, he snapped, killing his birth-parent with a single round to the temple followed by a many more rounds to the chest. After this incident, he was disowned by his family's oldest sibling and adopted by the Durants at the ripe age of sixteen due to his ability to bring in caps but the Durant father and son grew on him and he became comfortable with his new family. Three years later, the father of the Durant household died, leaving his massive debt to his eldest son, Leon at the age of 20.

The two grew up together, both of them barely out of adulthood and were now being forced to raid the underground vault of a nearby Wes-Tek Research Facility to get the family out of debt. Super Mutants armed to the teeth were not expected, let alone prepared for.

"Shit, Rhoke come 'ere for a second." Leon was frowning at the piece of paper that contained the code for the door. The town had an NCR outpost on its northwestern border that saw a lot of traffic, and the town's inhabitants were more then happy to pay the tax for protection to get income from its soldiers. A young ranger by the name of Leroy had found the two boys at the local bar in town and had caught wind of their plight. He told them of a facility to the south he was ordered to travel to and obtain a pre-war schematic in its vault. Hiding behind the disguise of a lazy bastard, the half-assed ranger gave them the password to the vault door and promised a thousand caps for bringing back what he needed. It was a shit job that was looking more impossible by the second.

Done scouring the floor for cases, Rhoke walked up to Leon to see what the trouble was. The parchment was now smeared with mutant blood and most of its letters were now illegible. The only legible bit was the first and last letters, T and E respectively, out of the seven letter code.

"I'm gonna try hacking it, maybe this'll be enough to get us through." Leon pulled up the assorted code screen that comes with trying to access the computer manually, and started sorting through the unintelligible bits of code. Muttering to himself. He hated word puzzles.

Rhoke decided to take a look at the Super Mutant's mini gun. Like most of the weapons in the Western Wasteland, it was in crap condition and barely functioning. Miniguns themselves though, were rare and could probably be sold for a nice price on the market... if only for scrap. Rhoke took the duffel bag he had over his shoulder off, and moved some of the goods in it around until he felt sufficient room had been made for the machine. He stuffed it in, ripping his bag at the top of the seam, but that could be fixed when he got back.

He slung the hefty machine over his back, trying to adjust to its weight. As he tightened the shoulder strap, he saw a humanoid shape cross the hallway in front of them and disappear again.

"Leon, trouble!" Rhoke whispered harshly. The typing continued for a second, followed by a clicking sound from the monitor.

"Holy shit, that actually worked!" Leon shouted with glee. "How'd you know the password was trouble?"

"It was?- Thats not the point! Just saw something go through the-" The figure was back in the middle of the hallway now, squinting at them and moving forward. All hope of not being sighted was lost.

"Open the door Leon!" Rhoke shouted as he fired his revolver at the figure. A tight arc of five in the chest area, it was too far away to shoot in the head effectively. The figure was startled by the rounds, and pulled out a large rectangular box from its back. A missile launcher caused both of the brothers looking at it to run cold. They had maybe five seconds.

"Oh no"

"The door won't open, the computer can't connect to it!"

"Open that damn door!" Rhoke was looking around for something, anything to give them sanctuary from a missile explosion.

"Fuck you door!" Leon drove his fist through the monitor, shattering the screen and causing the lock to disengage on the heavy door. Leon got up and started pushing the metal obstacle open, straining the rusted bolts and his arms. He looked back to see that the mutant had fired, they were as good as dead now. He kept pushing anyway.

Rhoke grabbed an open barrel or a trash can, what ever it was that had been left in the corner of the building, and threw it open side forward at the missile in a last ditch effort to save their lives. The missile entered the trash can and exploded, while the concussion had been mitigated by distance, the metal trash bin was turned into red hot shrapnel and mostly impacted Rhoke, who flew into Leon who had finally opened the door into the vault.

The explosion was too much for the pillars weakened by minigun fire to handle, they toppled, causing the upper floor to collapse a large slab of floor between the humans and the mutant.

* * *

><p>"Don't you dare die on me now!" Rhoke woke to a bloody version of his brother-in-law standing over him, his face twisted in a scowl of grief. He couldn't see straight, his vision was blurry and it felt like his head had been hit by a sledgehammer. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but something was obscuring his sight right below his nose. He blinked some more, blood was starting to pool below his eyes, he was propped up on a wall. Splayed out like a corpse.<p>

"Speak to me Rhoke! Please!" Leon stopped shaking his shoulder as he noticed Rhoke's eyes opening.

"..." Rhoke's vision suddenly cleared up, and he figured out what happened. A piece of the trash can had lodged itself into his face, an inch below his eyes, from the middle of his left eye to the cheekbone of his right was obscured by the shining metal. He couldn't even see what the rest of him looked like. This will take some getting used to.

"I got med-x in the duffel bag." He started, "Two doses and a handful of stimpacks in the pocket left of the zipper." He couldn't feel anything except inflammation now, but when the pain set in it would stop him in his tracks.

Leon dug through the duffel and his brother the dose of med-x via his forearm, then administering it to himself in the same fashion, to the relief of both. He also dug out two stimpacks for each of them, a fifth was present that would be saved for future injury. After that had been applied, Rhoke could feel that the rest of his body had been wracked, his forearms resembled cut meat from trying to protect his face, which obviously failed. Bits of metal stuck out of his torso. Everything below the waist was unharmed though, thats a good thing.

Rhoke then took a look at Leon, who had fared better. The only crippling injury was a long gash along the back of his right leg. He had his back turned when the missile went off. Leon was now scouring the room for their objectives, a set of blue schematics for pre-war power armor so that the entire trip wasn't for nothing. Rhoke had managed to prop himself against the wall, testing the bit of metal lodged in his face.

_I'm no medical expert, but head wounds bleed a LOT. If I pulled this out now, I might bleed out before we even leave the complex._

His vision blurred again, bringing with it a pallet of sensory fuzz and a headache. Trying not to move until it passed, Leon announced that he found it, holding the schematics in the air like a trophy. Then turning his attention to Rhoke, who had finally got his bearings.

"You holding together? We're not going anywhere until you're up to it." Leon declared. He was always looking out for his little brother.

"I'm gonna need to see serious medical aid and a strong drink, but until then I think I can walk out of here." For someone who didn't like talking about how he felt, that said a lot. But first Leon wanted to scour the room for other goodies to find.

Rhoke started looking around the room as well, trying to find valuables and came across another schematic for the power armor they were looking for.

"Leon, I found another one." He stated

"Hold on to it, maybe we can sell it to someone whose interested in that crap once we get out of here."

It was a good point, and Rhoke threw it in the duffel along with the minigun. The hefty bag and his injuries working in tangent to slow him down.

Leon procured a 10mm pistol from one of the shelves with a small sound of accomplishment. He had a backpack on him that he used to start shoving in all the ammunition that dotted the shelves. At least 100 rounds of 10mm, twenty-four .308 rounds still new in the box, a crate filled with 5mm cartridges that all together were too heavy for him to carry all together, so he grabbed three and asked Rhoke to carry whatever he could. Four 40mm grenades were left all alone, grabbed those and a number of boxes filled with 5.56. Finally, a bandoleer of grenades he took but kept in the box, not willing to have the pins exposed along with the rest of his gear. There was plenty of other goodies to find, but not today. Leon wanted to live to see another day.

Rhoke grabbed two more boxes of 5mm, that along with the mini gun was all he was willing to carry. Moving to the door where rubble had blocked the original entrance, he noticed that the floor above them had fallen at an angle. The tile would be slick, but it was broken and perhaps offered escape. Rhoke yelled for Leon to come over and take a look at the wreckage, weighing their options.

"I think we need to climb up this crap," Rhoke started, "I don't see any other options anyway. The only problem we'll run into would be the mutants. We might be able to sneak past them in our condition, but not run away." He looked towards Leon's leg, which had stopped bleeding but was starting to swell along its cut.

"We can't sit here forever either, you don't look like you'll last a day." Leon chipped in, noticing the pale pallor of his brother's face. "Running out of options and time here, lets get moving. Things'll get more simple once we do."

Leon took the lead, climbing along the debris and boosting himself up to the second floor. After peeking down the hallway, and seeing that it was clear, Leon bent onto his stomach pulled himself up, rotated himself a hundred n' eighty degrees and put out his hand, which Rhoke accepted, and used his legs to climb himself up the tiled rocks. Two slips were made but Rhoke managed to get above the makeshift ramp.

"Where do we start?"

"If I remember right, the staircase was on the west side of the building, correct?" Leon looked out the window at the end of the T intersection, which looked exactly like to the floor below them.

"The suns setting now, so its gotta be to the right." Leon stated after a few seconds gazing out the window.

"...Wait, I thought the sun sets in the West, not the East." Rhoke replied.

"Hold on... Are you sure? I could've sworn it set in the East."

"But when we left this morning it was rising from the direction of the desert, the East."

"... Where the hells the compass? I'll feel stupid if I get this wrong." Leon pulled out the compass from his back pocket, and stared at it as one would watch paint dry.

"You can read the compass-"

"I can read the goddamn compass!" Came a quick retort. "Its broken. Piece of shrapnel went right through the middle." He pulled it up for Rhoke to see, the hole evident, the dial in the middle lying at the bottom of the case along with small blotches of blood where the shrapnel continued into him.

"You know what this means right?" Leon said ominously.

"You've got a piece of shrapnel in your ass?"

"No no no, besides that... We don't know the way out."

"Sure we do, we just have to retrace our steps, and the second floor is almost exactly the same as the first." Rhoke started. "We came in through the side door to the West, took a left, then the second right we saw, and then another right and ran into the vault. We passed the stairs somewhere along that trek. If I'm right we'll see the other two mutants we blew up on the way in."

Leon hugged his brother then and there. "I'll take you over a compass any day, lead us home brother!" He turned Rhoke around and starting pushing him down the corridor.

"Hang on, my head's fuzzin up again." A few seconds ticked by as he tried to clear his head. "Okay, lets go. Quietly this time." The two continued down this path, trying to be quiet about it, and found the staircase along the way, no living mutants got in their way as they staggered through the exit, a setting sun and the desert wastes greeting them with a harsh familiarity. Three mutant corpses met them, one missing the top of its skull, another both of its legs and littered with shrapnel. The final one pocked with bullet holes from a 9mm gun farther from the building.

"Alright, back north, to Ira." Leon commanded, "You can make it half-a-mile. You're built tougher then that you invincible bastard." Trying to get Rhoke's spirits up. The brothers took each other, shoulder in shoulder and began the short-yet painful trek home.

* * *

><p>The trek proved uneventful, Leon stabbing Rhoke with the last stimpack to keep his face wound from opening again and blood dripping behind the two as the journey continued, the trail dissipating as the winds picked up along with the night that neared. As the pair approached the gate, a NCR guard spotted the two and sent word down the line to open the gate.<p>

Wooden doors creaked an a pair of troopers came out to meet them, rifles in their hands per standard greeting to Ira. The two young men were soon rushed to Doctor Garrett's home as the severity of their condition was finally noticed. As the two were carried by soldiers to the doctor's home, something occurred to Leon.

"Hey Rhoke..." His leg wound had opened up again and a small stream of liquid followed the group. He let the soldiers carry him at this point, not wanting to agitate the wound more. He had been injured plenty of times and knew not to move it anymore then he had to.

"Yeah?" Rhoke replied, his head rolling along his shoulders, trying to keep steady and failing miserably.

"You were kidding when you said I had a piece of shrapnel in my ass, right?"

And so ends the prologue of Rhoke and Leon and their amazing quest of... I don't really know yet! Next chapter is still the introductory plot so it brings them ever closer to the conflict brewing in their own backyard while I try to get a friend to help me co-author. Shit will hit the fan right quick! So stay tuned for the next exciting installment, and feel free to rate and review!


	2. 2: Unbound

**Chapter One: Unbound**

Leon awoke to the most painful sensation he had ever known originating from his right butt cheek. He screamed an ear-shattering yell, to where the citizens outside heard it and swerved away from the good doctor Garrett's office.

"Oh shut it you big baby." Doctor Garrett started, finally digging the shrapnel out of the young man's buttocks, putting it on a sterile tray that was full of bits of metal. Leon rested his head against the pillow he had been provided on the operating table. It looked to have been coated in a thin layer of drool in some spots.

"You're lucky you passed out for me digging the bit that lanced your leg, now _that_ made me wince, and I'm a doctor!" The doctor continued.

"I hate you Sara."

"That any way to treat the doctor patching your ass up." A small laugh, "Literally."

"That any way to talk to a patient Sara? You are literally the biggest pain in my ass right now-"A stream of obscenities followed as she pulled a sliver of tin out from his calf, it was long too, must've been at least five inches.

"Must've brushed up against some nerves." Doctor Sara Garret smiled. "Are you... crying?"

"No, I drool in my sleep." Leon trying too keep his face in his saliva stained pillow, _Hell yes I'm crying!_ "You didn't give me Med-x did you?"

"Why would I do that after you didn't pay your tab for the last time you visited." A pause to stitch up a small laceration. "That was fun too, remember? You got so drunk you jumped off old man Wilkin's roof. I had a lot of fun watching you walk around in that splint." She paused "So what trouble did you two get into this time?"

Leon took a moment to format his response, deciding to keep it short and sweet, "Mutant with a missile launcher. Took us by surprise. Rhoke saved my ass back there. How's he doin anyway?" Taking that route to dodge the conversation. The doctor gave out a sigh.

"The poor thing got a nasty face scar from whatever the hell lodged in there. It got infected but I cleaned it before it got serious. but I had to cut away some tissue as well. He was awake for most of the procedure and didn't scream once. I don't think he could even feel it. He passed before I cauterized the cut with a blow torch, but hes fine now. Poor guy deserves better from his _brother._" She had flooded a small cut with rubbing alcohol, adding painful emphasis to the good doctor's words.

A string of curses followed by a mumbled 'got it' put the doctor in a good mood. She slowly but surely sewed up the holes she had put in his clothes to get access to his wounds. Each one was dressed properly and he should be at 100% in about a week. He was promptly informed of this.

"I'd tell you to sit up but that would hurt. If you really wanted to, use the pillow you drooled on and sit on that, I'll let you keep it free of charge as well."

Leon took the suggestion, situating himself so that the bandages concealed by his outfit did not come loose in any way. Garrett knew her field.

"How about Rhoke, what time span are we looking at?"

"Face wound aside, he'll be good in about three days actually. Most of his wounds don't mess with the way he operates daily, but I want him to come in every day, gotta make sure he keeps his face pretty. If an infection takes hold that close to the major blood vessels and his brain, it could be fatal." The words brought a chill along Leon's spine.

"I'm keeping him under until the swelling goes down around his eyes, so you've got a few hours before he wakes up. When he does, make sure he doesn't try too many facial expressions, the skin might split and bleed again."

_Like that'll be hard._ Leon got up off the operating table slowly, "Good to know, I've got some business with the NCR ranger that sent us out there in the first place. But before I go, I need to know how much our bill is here."

Sara put a finger up to her chin and mentally calculated. "200 Caps for each of you. The operation and supplies cost a little over that, but whats a discount between childhood friends?"

"I can handle that as soon as I get my payment from the ranger."

"Good, I want you back here by noon, that gives you four hours."

_Plenty of time._ Leon waved to her as he left, testing his cut-up leg to find it could support normal walking more easily then it did sitting.

He left the doctor's office of the town of Ira and looked around his hometown. A group of small children playing in the street, an NCR patrol passing along a package of cigarettes with the locals, talking about daily events. A Brahman loaded with water followed its trader, offering drinks for low prices. Its been this peaceful for as long as Leon can remember, with the occasional raider party trying to work its way past the wall, but failing after a day or two. The entire town was surrounded by a wall was an essential barrier made of pre-war vehicles, sheet metal, and as much fence as they could find, and then what they were able to make. They even had large metal gates that worked, ensuring no weakness in the town's entrances and exits. The NCR's presence made life that much easier, allowing the town militia to do other things, such as guard trade caravans or perhaps specialize in trades. Like how Rhoke was one of the few who worked the ammo press. All of this success was possible due to the large amount of vehicles that were on interstate when the bombs went off. An immense amount of scrap metal for years to come.

The NCR got a large amount of its ammunition from Ira, however a Gun Runner vendor or even a trader couldn't be supported in Ira. People here had no need of massive firearms, the local traders still did business with hunters and trappers, but the majority of the gun trade went up in smoke when the NCR took up post as guardian of this town. The odd giant radscorpion offer the biggest threats out here.

Leon started down the street, towards the bar where he first met his contact, ranger Leroy. He either didn't give his last name or didn't have one. Words and caps were to be exchanged, mostly caps if Leon played his cards right. Coming up to one of the two bars in town, the sign read; _The Port in the Storm_. Walking inside, Leon was assailed with the familiar smells of cigarettes and booze. Plenty of locals and NCR folk mingling, some more then others as he saw a soldier getting sweet with a local girl. Leon took a seat at the bar, deciding to put down a pillow before he sat, adding relief to his aching bottom. He had taken the pillow from good Doctor Sara's office per her recommendation and was now trying to not look like a small child being propped up to drink sarsaparilla at the bar like the grown ups.

"Hey bartend! Get me some of that famous Rum and Nuka you've been hosting all these years!."

"Hey Leo! Didn't think you'd make it back alive!" Came a deep reply from across the bar, the man behind the counter was a wizened old bear with a thick beard and male pattern baldness that everyone called 'Bull'. Bull had plenty of war decorations across his body such as the shotgun pellet marks that dotted the flesh on the left side of his face and claimed that eye, and the Yao Guai teeth marks on his left forearm, or the two bullet holes in his right shoulder he got back when the militia was in charge of security, after his two tours of duty with the NCR anyway. He owned the establishment and ran it with a gentle fist. He'd sometimes entertain the kids about the more frivolous adventures into the wastes, saving the good and bloody stories on the people that would truly admire them like NCR officers and experienced prospectors. Leon could now believe himself to be one of those guys.

Bull slid over a generous helping of Rum and Nuka, and pulled up a stool that sat opposite of the counter. "Its on the house if you tell me yah story, how'd it go?" He was fully aware of the ranger's commission as well. A good barkeep kept his ears to the ground.

"Well, you were right, I pissed my pants." Leon began. A drink of the alcoholic beverage followed while the barkeep laughed a hearty laugh.

"Everyone's gotta start somewhere laddie!" He began, "At least you started close to home! Heard your brother got in bit of a scrape with a mutie as well, is he holdin up well?"

"Oh yeah Rhoke'll be fine, he got a hell of a mark across his face though, but if anything it reflects his 'strong silent' personality." Another fit of laughter from Bull.

"Lemme start at the beginning...

* * *

><p>"Two mutants watching in the front, armed with rifles, one on the right side of the building with a sledgehammer." Rhoke reported in from circling the building, moving up to where Leon was prone in the ground. Afternoon light was pounding onto the duo as they made plans.<p>

"We'll have to move up to kill the riflemen, but I don't want to alert the one with the sledge either."

"How about we split up then." Rhoke started, "I'll take the .32 hunting rifle and pick off the sledgehammer mutant from the right, and while that draws the attention of the guards up from, you use these." Giving Leon three grenades, "To blow those fuckers straight to hell."

"How'd you sneak grenades out the town armory?" Leon was surprised, "They keep tabs on all their stock except the older stuff, they certainly keep tabs on the explosives. They'll know we stole this if don't put these back. We're risking enough with the rifle."

"I may have gone in and edited the stock shipment a little bit... They won't miss three grenades. Saw some interesting stuff in there as well, remind me to tell you about it later."

"I could kiss you, you know that? We may actually be able to pull this off!" His elation was masked by the picking up of the wind.

"Yeah, yeah, lets just get this over with." He looked Leon in the eyes, "Please don't fuck this up. I won't live to chastise you if you do." And moved off in a lazy circle to the right.

Quickly moving into position, Rhoke waited until the mutant to the right side of the building appeared as off guard as he would get, and opened fire. The round caught the mutant in the top of the head, painting the wall with blood and brain, it fell over sideways, the remainder of its brain and lifeblood spraying violently from the wound. Rhoke couldn't open fire on the other two mutants until they crossed into his visibility. The two at the front door shouldered their weapons and cautiously stopped around the edge of the building after hearing the shot ring out. They were trying to play it smart, but Leon already had them flanked. Twenty meters away, hidden by a sandy dune he tossed a grenade over the side with as much aimed precision as he could muster, landing it between the two. A yell followed by an explosion, the mutant in front, not realizing that there was a grenade behind him, had his legs vanish underneath him, and was propelled forward in a comical fashion with blood spiraling behind into Rhoke's field of vision. Leon peeked over the dune to see that the second mutant had survived and was now running for cover on the side of the building Rhoke was on.

Rhoke thought the second one was dead, and had unfortunately left his prone position and started to walk back around when the mutant sighted him and opened fire. The round went wide, but startled Rhoke, who jumped backward down the dune to avoid any other shots. Leon brought out the 9mm pistol he got off a local trader and emptied an entire clip in the general area of the mutant, half of the shots connected, but the mutant rushed Rhoke's position anyway, trying to not loose sight of its prey. Cursing, Leon put in a second magazine and tried to aim more carefully now, the mutant cresting the dune Rhoke was behind. A shot caught the mutant in the neck, another in the temple, and it screamed in a bloody rage as the small caliber round pissed it off. Rhoke's rifle flashed as it fired two more shots into its chest before the mutant had crossed over the dune, crossing the threshold of sand wielding its rifle like a club and a sickening split was heard out of Leon's sight as he saw the mutant lower the club.

Fearing the worst, Leon charged the mutant, unloading one, two, three full clips at it as he moved to the dune. It staggered under the small caliber onslaught, and finally keeled over and died, sliding upon the sand. Rhoke poked his head up over the hill, only a little bit shaken, but okay. He held up his rifle, or rather, two parts of his rifle. He had used it as a shield when the mutant tried to bludgeon him.

"Sorry Leon, we're not getting the rifle back."

"Fuck it, it wasn't worth your life anyway. Maybe you could use his?"

The rifle stock was shattered and the trigger gone from the blow.

"What about the mutant I blew up?"

The rifle was blown up with it upon further investigation.

"Take the ammo, we're gonna need it. No use pouting about the rifles." Leon said. "You didn't piss your pants yet right?" Rhoke shook his head, _No and screw you_ was written on his face. He had forgotten about scrounging the mutant's for ammo due to Leon's remark.

Rhoke and Leo met at the side door, pistols at the ready after much encouraging talk and readying of grenades.

"You ready for this?" Rhoke whispered, a curt nod from Leon was his answer.

The door swung open and...

* * *

><p>"Then I woke up on the surgery table, having Sara dissect my ass for-"<p>

"You can stop there!" Bull said between laughs, "Was a damn good story Leo, gonna put that one down in the books."

As soon as it was said the bar door swung open and a NCR ranger walked in, the cowboy outfit, repeater, and hat giving him the impression of authority. Everyone had met a ranger before in town, some friendly, some not so much. They were like the oddballs of the NCR, but better trained. You just take the personalities in full swing with it.

"Leroy! Good to have ya, will it be the usual?"

"You betcha!" Came his overly cheerful reply, sandy haired man with a mustache and young, full face started forward to meet them.

"Leroy, good buddy!" Leon directed his attention to the seat next to him. "Come on down, we got business to discuss."

The young ranger sat down, a plate of Brahman steak and a bottle of whiskey slid from one side of the bar to Leroy's sitting area. Bull certainly knew his trade.

"So, you got the blueprints?" Straight to business. The ranger was obviously new to this commission business, sipping at the whiskey.

"We did, and now we must discuss payment..." Leon would try and bleed as much as he could out of this guy.

"Does the original thousand caps sound good to you?" Way too easy, it was even in the form of a question.

"Hell no." Came the reply almost immediately. A scowl was painted on Leon's face, a rare sight, "I wouldn't have accepted it had I known that the super mutants had missile launchers and miniguns, and now we've got medical bills to pay too because we didn't have the firepower to deal with the monsters. I want four thousand caps or the schematic sees a new buyer."

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down Leo, I know it was a bit more dangerous then I made it out to be, but certainly it wasn't that bad?"

"My brother looks like hell, medical bills alone aren't going to cut it for him. I get the best for my brother, and he needs cosmetic surgery or he'll never be looked at the same." Rhoke wouldn't go for cosmetic surgery unless it would save his life. He is a man of efficiency, not looks.

"Thats just bullshit, hes still alive, he'll be happy with a thousand caps." The ranger was trying to call his bluff.

"You mean so he can afford to give his sweet one a gift? It'll be pretty hard for anyone to accept him now that his face is ripped in half." Okay that was a stretch of the truth but the half-lie was a victim-less crime.

"In.. half! No fuckin.. I heard the mutants did bad things to people but... Oh shit I'm so sorry... I can give you two-thousand, five hundred caps, tops, just... go pick it up out of the comm station north of town..."

"Will do." Leon replied, handing over the power armor schematic. "Hope to see you again Leroy!" The ranger simply staggered out, thinking of the life he had ruined because he was to afraid to take on some super mutants. Bull watched him go, _Damn rookie just learned to follow through with his work.  
><em>

Leroy hadn't touched his steak, and Leon slid his plate over and started digging into it. It was on the ranger's tab anyway and you never turned down a free meal. Bull ignored this.

Once that dirty deed was done, Leon said his goodbyes to Bull, and contemplated what he had just done. He played the ranger's good natured self like a fool and felt a little guilty for it. Not extremely guilty, but enough to make him second guess his actions.

His father left him with a three thousand cap debt to the second bar across town, a much more seedier place known as: _The Mighthouse._ The owner thought it was witty. Leon walked to the NCR station to the north, the sun doing its usual thing and creating heatwave after heatwave. Corporal Peterson was on a communication terminal, making idle chatter with someone on the other line.

"C'mon Lacy, why ya gotta treat me like dis?"

"Because you're a womanizing asshole Peterson" came the tinny reply from the setup.

"Dats not true, you know I treat you good!"

"Bullshit! You made me waste my entire leave just waiting for your ass at the Mojave Outpost! I get those once a year you dick! I wanted to visit New Vegas!"

"Hate to interrupt the romantic conversation" Leon cut in, "But I'm lookin for my commission from ranger Leroy."

"Bag with your name on it, third door to the left, ask Jennings." Came Peterson's reply

"Oh and who the hell is Jennings? Harvey? You'd better answer me!"

_This ramshackle building was considerably nicer then the last time I walked through it_, Leon decided. He rounded the third door to his left, coming across a brunette female NCR soldier doing desk work, hands moving over a computer keyboard and a helmet sitting on the desk corner.

Without looking up, she started the conversation. "You the Durant boy commissioned by Leroy?"

"Yeah-"

"Here." She paused to reach under her desk and threw a bag of caps at him, he caught it as it rebounded off his chest. "Now please leave, I don't need any more interruptions."

_Well that was pleasant._ Leon walked back, past Peterson having an argument with whats-er-face over the radio and back into the blistering sun. _That brunnette reminded me of Rhoke, maybe they'd be a good pairing..._

Putting the bag of caps into his backpack, he continued onward until he met a street vendor that had been up for a few years and knew him well.

"Hey Wally, got some nice things for ya."

The street vendor named Wally Brumbagger was enthralled in a magazine, something about guns that started with a M. "Mhm, sure you do. Find a three headed Brahman? People'll pay out the wazoo for Brahman head these days. God knows why."

"Better" Leon set down the four 40mm, six boxes with twenty-four 5.56mm rounds each and his old 9mm pistol.

The trader looked up, and immediately dropped his magazine to gauge the quality of the ammunition. "This is good shit son, the ammo presses would take six hours of work to come up with the 5.56. And 40mm is in short supply this side of Mojave outpost." Wally knew his shit, "Your gun is in crap condition but I'll take that anyway. And your total comes out to; four hundred and thirty two for the 5.56, twenty-eight for the crap pop shooter, and forty for the grenade rounds."

"You know as well as I do that the grenades are worth more then that, bump it to 60." But Leon knew his way with words. A scratch on the head from of the older gentlemen in the pale, old hooded shirt.

"Deal." and handed over a mix of caps and NCR paper money. Leon decided to see if Wally had anything interesting in stock whist he seemed to be getting all this spare cash. He spotted a rifle on the back wall that looked promising. He pointed to the rifle with a dramatic stance complete with a finger.

"How much for the rifle?"

Wally looked up at it, his attention was just getting back into the magazine.

"Thats a .308 caliber hunting rifle, its a beautiful piece of weaponry, can get through most helmets in one shot. Its in shit condition though. I'll give it to ya for three-fifty."

A hell of a deal. "I'll take it." Wally got up and tossed the rifle to Leon in a very uncaring manner. "You'll want a gunsmith to take a look at it before you fire though, that bolt is so old n' worn, the thing'll explode in your face and take an eye to its grave." Leon simply nodded, leaving the desired amount on the table as he walked away, prize in hand.

It an hour past noon, not realizing how much time he burnt at Bull's Bar, he made his way back to the clinic.

Upon entering the white washed structure, he found Rhoke sitting in a chair against the wall in the waiting room, looking into a hand mirror and poking at the edges of his new scar. The red sinewy flesh poked out slightly from his face, the outlying skin actually a darker shade, ragged and torn at odd angles where burnt flesh was cut away, giving it the look of an explosion in a pre-war comic book. A deathclaw slash would've been a cleaner cut. Then again, it would cleave his head in half as well. He didn't seem extremely worried about it, but it was something he would have to get used to.

"You know they say chicks dig scars and shrapnel." Leon broke his contemplating mood, "You've got both now, so you don't have any excuses for not getting laid before twenty."

Rhoke set the mirror down in an adjacent seat and a small grin broke out along his face, he was used to Leon trying to embarrass him, and learned how to turn it full circle if he needed to.

"You mean get me laid before I hit your age as a way to make up for you still being a virgin?" _Oh that was a low blow._

"Damn that stings man, why ya gotta bring that up?" He dug the pillow out from his backpack, laid it on the seat next to Rhoke, and slowly n' carefully sat down.

"That pillow for your ass?"

"Yes." Rhoke burst into a fit of laughter, it was a rarity for him but he could light up a room with his voice. Slowing down considerably, the skin on his face being pulled taunt, he noticed the rifle that Leon was carrying with him.

"That for your ass as well?" He said, keeping as straight a face as he could. He was failing.

"No, its for yours!" Leon punched Rhoke in the shoulder, the two broke out into a laughing fit. After a few minutes of this, the two calmed down. Rhoke started the conversation up again.

"Did you meet up with Leroy?"

"Yep."

"Wha'd he say he pay us again?"

"A thousand caps." Rhoke squinted at his brother.

"How much did you guilt out of him?"

"What?" Leon tried to keep his poker face going. "What makes you think I'd guilt the good ranger of... Two thousand, five hundred caps." The look on Rhoke's face was priceless. And probably painful as he didn't hold it long.

"Two thousand alone is enough to make us free men! I thought we'd have to go out there again and get killed!"

"I know! Scored some extra from Wally as well, for all that 5.56, and we still have the three hundred saved up at home."

"Lets get the debt paid off first, to make it official!" The two brothers were now grinning ear to ear, shoulder to shoulder, arm around arm, all smiling grins and what-not, the shorter one not caring about his face anymore. A thought interrupted Leon. He dropped a bag full of caps on the clerks desk. Making sure it was above 600 caps.

"Get this to the good doctor, and make sure she buys herself something nice." The two left singing into the street, headed to the southwestern part of town to cash in an honest claim to start an honest life.

* * *

><p><em>The Mighthouse<em>. _You can feel your brain cells die every time you say it. _Rhoke thought in disgust. The two had stopped by their apartment they had shared for two months when their father died. They had sold the house to make payments on the debt. Rhoke dropping off his duffel that still contained the looted mini gun from their escapades, and also got a 'clean' white shirt. He had taped up his hands in preparation for this meeting, and his forearms to keep the bandages secure. Leon had deposited the rifle in a wardrobe closet next to the door, and went over to his room to get his butterfly knife and other assorted goods.

It always ended with the two brothers getting beat on with the various bouncers and vagrants, all thanks the the 'suave' man in charge who thought it served a good reminder to the debt they owed. A short ominous man that insisted on wearing business wear everywhere by the name of Frank Evergreen. He was a rude asshole who cared more about money then people, there was word passed around that he had anyone who got on his bad side was dealt with painfully. Many accounts of assault and battery, and a murder or two, but he knew the system well enough to weasel his way around it.

The sun was starting to hide behind the wasteland when the brothers appeared walking down the road from the club. The two had been forced to put on tough guy facades once the visits started happening. Two months of harassment and backstabbing had taught each of them to never yield an inch to this slime.

The original debt Leon had inherited from his father was originally a staggering three-thousand caps. Rhoke and Leon were to busy mourning the death of Eval Durant, his father to pay any attention to that. He was the one-and-only local vendor for weapons for the longest time until the NCR showed up around ten years ago to take over town security. He lived life well, his business flourished for another year with his partner who'd help set him up with the starting cash, Frank Evergreen. But the need for guns started to decline. Eval and Frank suddenly saw that the cost of living was going to catch up with the fortunes that had stopped growing. Franks quickly invested his cut of the business into _The Mighthouse,_ and that was supposed to be the end of the partership.

But Evergreen was a stingy bastard, who called out Eval to pay up his starter's fee and interest. Ignoring this, Eval continued to run his stall for another two years unsuccessfully, fueled on hope until a rude orphan accidentally burnt it down to keep himself warm during a desert night. This little bundle of piss n' vinegar was known as Leon. Nobody knows what drove Eval to adopt the child that was left behind after a caravan train forgot him, but the relationship grew into a true father and son bond. The stuff of stereotypical pre-war novels.

Frank Evergreen, on the other hand, was enraged, doubling the debt and tacking on another thousand caps for lost properties in the fire. A five-thousand cap debt to somebody that was starting his own underground rule of the town of Ira was a bad position to be in. Eval simply didn't have the stamina or the endurance to be a caravan guard. He tried working the ammo presses but the unhealthy conditions of the factory in the middle of town cost him a few years of his life and two fingers. Nobody needed his skills. He was washed up.

He started drinking, the only comforting way out of his debt that he tried working off and failed. Four years had passed and only twenty percent of the debt had been paid when an uproar across the street started at the Griddly's home for the fourth time in a week. None of the houses were here originally, and the tin plated assortment of trailers did little to lessen the arguments in the Griddly family home. A shot rang out across the streets, breaking the argument and starting a barrage of shouts and screams followed by many more shots. The murder of Rhoke's father had occurred this night. Screams of children as the now-second oldest of the household fled into the streets.

The NCR got a hold of the boy in the morning, and held him for a day while his father was buried. He was an angry drunk that beat all four of his children, nobody mourned him. The oldest son of the household, named Duke, kicked Rhoke out afterward because he couldn't feed all four of them being a caravan guard. It made sense to the public and the other siblings of the Griddly household. The teenager wandered the streets until his older friend Leon brought him into his home out of pity. Eval immediately recognized the teen's potential as a worker and adopted him as well, having Rhoke work the ammo presses more efficiently then any grown man could.

The bond between those two slowly grew over three years, paying off another five hundred caps to Frank. Eval certainly didn't lead by example, but he taught the boys the value of hard and honest work, and taught each one of his boys the trade. Rhoke was taught how to use the tools of the trade, from effective usage to maintenance. This in turn, taught Rhoke the value of things that worked correctly. Leon learned the trade of the tools, his charisma had him bartering with the best of them. Both of them learned how to became alcoholics as well...

Two months ago, the Durant family home was happy. Two months ago, the Durant family home was burnt down 'accidentally'. The two brothers were out at _The Port in the Storm _for a late night of living life to its fullest_,_ when a bystander rushed in, saying there was a fire down the road and that everyone needed to grab a bucket of dirt. The two rushed outside with the crowd that came to help and bore witness to their entire home in flames. Eval was found dead on his mattress from smoke inhalation the fire hadn't gotten as far as the kitchen. After a proper burial, the two set out immediately to look into what caused this, none of it made sense, how could a fire start in a house made of metal?

Further investigation revealed broken glass, Eval always gave empty bottles to the water merchants for small change, "it would be a waste of caps not to." he would say, putting any and all bottles in a crate next to the couch in the living room. He never drank in the kitchen.

Someone had killed their father, but before any further investigation could be made, the two were jumped by Frank's goons outside the apartment they had rented the first week after Eval's death and the selling of the family home.

A note was left after the two had woken up, bloodied and bruised; _The three thousand cap debt held by Eval Durant is hereby passed on to his eldest son, Leon. Should the eldest son die, it will be passed on to the next son in line, Rhoke. Failure to come up with any payment to Frank Evergreen, owner of The Mighthouse, at least once a week will result in violent retrieval of any and all possessions of value. Have a good day gentlemen._

_~Evergreen_

That smug fucker.

* * *

><p>The two were now at the entrance of the bar the latest music could be blaring along to flashing strobe lights that peek from the cracks in makeshift walls. A large sign displaying that horrible title in neon was present. Three bouncers were checking each of the people that entered for weapons, It was getting dark out, and the reckoning of the Durant family freedom was at hand. Leon was first up. The first bouncer he ran into recognized cold demeanor he showed them any time he approached the club.<p>

"Okay Leo, we go through this every time, just go ahead and hand over _everything_ now." The female at the door stated. They've been through this before, gotten in fist fights, knife fights, and one time made out. Leon certainly wouldn't have minded going out with the piece of work known as 'Cutter Grace', but she said she had higher standards, '_perhaps when you matured a little, or maybe grew some hair on that chin of yours_', made him drop that aspiration in a hurry. Another female bouncer, obviously new, was watching as well with awe-set eyes. He didn't know her, better put on a good act for the newbie. The third, a bald tank of a man named Mark, was focused on the crowd of people ahead of him. His eyes were mostly meeting Rhoke's and looking away quickly. This was commonplace. The brothers had done this more then a dozen times.

Leon handed over his 10mm pistol, took off his right boot to retrieve a pen knife, pulled a set of brass knuckles out from his vest, three throwing knives from the hidden brace on the inside of his jeans, and a kitchen knife tucked away up his left sleeve. Half of these things he didn't know how to use in a fight or even wanted to, it was mostly for show. The new bouncer's eyes widened at this list of weapons she scribbled down.

"Good boy, Rhoke with you?" She changed the subject, and Leon gave himself a small smile. They didn't check him for his butterfly knife he had tucked away in a more unpleasant place. Mark was going through his backpack. He had taken out everything except a pillow and the bag of caps in there, Mike didn't touch that package, he knew better.

"Yeah, tell him I'll catch him at the bar." Leon walked away, the new bouncer watching him go, noticing that he walked like he had a stick up his ass, but kept quiet anyway. She wasn't supposed to be gawking at every piece of eye candy she saw, she'd get the boot. Grace didn't like working with the easily distracted.

Rhoke came up next out of the darkness, The head bouncer's eyes widened when she saw his new scar that was cloaked until now. He stopped a foot from her, arms crossed, a stance you could find Rhoke in most hours of the day. This also showed off the nicks and scratches along his forearms, a patchwork of bandages ending in the boxing tape he had wrapped his hands in.

"Damn Rhoke, you look like shit... Any weapons?"

"No, but you're gonna search me anyway because thats your job."

Grace motioned for Mark to search the young man, his gorilla-like hands patting down his sides for weapons half-heartedly, he knew he wasn't gonna find anything. Rhoke never walked in here armed. Mark stopped searching, his hands on the others shoulders and made eye contact again, this time for a full thirty seconds. He met those steel-gray eyes, searching for anything to give away his true intentions they met back, boring a hole into his eye sockets. A clearing of the throat from Grace interrupted his thoughts, and he stood back up, blinking.

"Hes clean, but this one doesn't need weapons do damage." His heavyset voice reverberating of its own accord.

"We know this Mark, remember the last time we did this? He knocked out one of your teeth?" He lifted a hand to his mouth where he was missing a molar. "I swear we shouldn't let you boys in here. Why the boss wants to meet you personally I'll never know." The line behind Rhoke was starting to get restless, the complaints audible. Grace motioned him to move forward.

Rhoke started to walk past, "Must be my charming personality." He kept a straight face as he said it.

She shouted after him, "Your brother okay too? I saw he walked in as perky as a pre-teen in a stripclub."

He turned to her, walking backwards and cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure everyone near the door heard him, "Ass shrapnel does that to people!"

Grace smiled to herself as she turned back to the line she was guarding,_ You want to get rid of the brothers? Lock them in a room together, they'll destroy each other quicker then any force in the Western Wasteland._

* * *

><p>"Hey Whitley! Your useless boss get here yet?" Leon was addressing the lady behind the counter. When you visit a place like this on business enough, you learned to get friendly with the people and how to push their buttons as well. Whitley was a middle-aged woman with a thin physique and curly blond hair that made most think she was twenty five at best. An important person to have on your side in these fights since she had access to the shotgun behind the counter.<p>

She absolutely hated Evergreen, and got the job as his barmaid just so she could spit in his drinks. At least that's what she told Leon. He found that the quickest way to get to Whitley's good side was to actually be himself. _Least me n' Rhoke aren't the only ones who hate Frank. This'll probably be the last day I ever set foot in here though. I'll be sure to go out with a bang._

Whitley had finally moved down, wiping down a glass that had been recently used. "That useless ham? He said he'd be back in an hour. Caught a rumor that someone got their fingers in the armory earlier today." She turned her back to him, putting the glass on the counter and digging out the usual Rum and Nuka for Leon. A glass of vodka was already laid out for Rhoke, she knew the brothers well. "Don't know what he'd have in the armory, but I guess it was enough to give him a bit of a panic."

The disgruntled barmaid turned her attention to Leon's even more unusual height. "You're already almost seven feet tall Leo, you didn't need to bring a booster seat."

"Oh that," Leon pretended to pay the pillow he was sitting on no heed. "Last job got me n' Rhoke rich overnight. Seeing as how my rear has been kicked out enough to cause permanent damage, I figured my ass deserves to be in the lap of luxury for once."

"Right." Whitley had turned to Rhoke, who was sitting to Leon's left. Leon hadn't noticed him and jumped in his seat a bit. Rhoke was very good at startling people when he wanted to.

"You okay Rhoke? You look like shit."

A deep swig of the drink on the counter, "I feel better then I look." was his neutral reply.

Half an hour passed with the brothers making idle chatter, the two keeping a lookout to see when Frank would arrive. He still hadn't shown up yet. And the Durants grew tired of sitting around with the flashing strobe lights of different colors decorated the dance floor, the music giving off an unsettling beat, and the drunk people being thrown out and let in by the bouncers occupying the doorway. It was a tune they knew all to well.

"Be back in a bit, gotta take a leak." Leon disembarked from his stool and approached the men's room. He situated himself in front of a urinal until he was sure nobody was a round, and dug the butterfly knife out from the back end of his underwear. If he had gone immediately to the restroom, Grace would've put two and two together real quick.

He had done this trick before successfully, but she knew he always had a weapon on him ever since the first time he came in without one. He always came prepared after that bit. He never wanted to pay such a medical bill for a beating again. It didn't feel to pleasant either, but the hit in his wallet weighed on his mind since this debt was instilled to him.

He washed his hands and the large knife in the sink with soap. He couldn't remember the last time he had a bath. Splashing some of the water to his face, he dried off with a complimentary towel hanging beside the door.

Returning to the bar, Rhoke was leaning against the counter, and stopped him from sitting down. "He has arrived." Was given with a quick look of understanding.

The two started towards the back area in the far corner of the bar, Leon giving a good wave and a wink to Whitley. Rhoke continued next to him, talking under his breath, just within his brother's range of hearing.

"Somethings up with Frank, dunno what though. He had a bunch of bandages around his neck and spine area if that means anything to you."

"Nope, not a clue there, looks like I'll have to weasel some info out of Frank."

The two went traveled down a hallway, three doors, all on the left with appropriate labels were passed. Kitchen, Storage, and finally, Management. Two halves of a bed sheet had been put up in place of a door. They broke the last three that had been put up. The first with Leon's body, the second Rhoke had to break down, the final was by a goon Rhoke and Leon had pushed through the door.

Walking through, exchanging a final glance between each other with an air of confidence, the two faced down Frank Evergreen.

As usual, the man was seated on a fancy looking metal chair upon a medal pedestal, looking bored in his large and empty room with three guards flanking him on either side. It started at two, then upgraded by two every time the Durant boys managed to walk out of their own willpower. This was strange, this rule of thumb demanded there be twelve this time, yet here were only six of these fearsome looking men built for brawls. Frank also got rid of the wooden chair he sat on last meeting. Like the rest of the furniture before it, it broke to easily.

The two presented themselves in front of the short bastard with a shaved head and cleft chin. _This stupid prick would sell his mother for another inch in height I'll bet. _Leon thought silently to himself. _I'm gonna shove this fucker's jaw into his eye sockets. _Was a much more sadistic thought from Rhoke.

"Boys! Its good to see you two! Well, at least you Leo, your brother doesn't look like much of a poster boy anymore now does he?" His eyes lit up like a child receiving a gift because he begged hard enough for it. "You brought this week's penance early then?" He started rubbing his hands together like the generic money-hungry slob.

Rhoke felt a vicegrip on his shoulder hold him back from starting the traditional brawl then and there. "I told you to call me Leon." He reached over his shoulder into his unzipped backpack, the guards starting towards him in case he may be pulling out a weapon. Again.

A large sackful of caps appeared in Leon's hand, holding it at the top and shaking it to give off the audible cling bottle caps made when stored together.

"That looks like more then your usual pay. What surprises did you cook for us today?" Frank noted, signaling his nearest guard on his left, a ripped man who carried a brown crew cut and sunglasses upon his head. He took the bag, and started checking the contents.

"Whats in it?" The short man was craning out of his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of his goon shuffling around in the bag slowly. He was used to the brother's tricks at this point, they'd put tacks in the bag the first time, when Frank himself checked the contents, raking cuts covered his hands in his hasty greed and a few of them scarred. From then on he had his goons check the bags, which always had other nasty things in there following that first visit. These things ranged from broken glass, empty syringes, and exposed copper wire that was connected to a fission battery. One time a rope had been tied around the bag, and pulling the knot out lit some sort of firework that had struck the boss in the face. Another time Leon simply threw the bag to Frank and Rhoke pulled out a C4 detonator. Of course the two couldn't afford plastic explosive but nobody opposed the Durants as they walked out that time.

Another time Rhoke set down the bag, slap the top and retreated to the far end of the room where Leon was already waiting. Every time someone got near the bag it sounded like a frag mine was arming itself to go off. It turned out to be a proximity sensor hooked up to a frag mine klaxon, but it was damned clever. The last time they cashed in the bag caught fire after it traded hands. These medical bills were beginning to get outrageous. Frank almost wanted to add them to the debt but that might drive one of them over the edge.

The fact that nothing was in the bag worried Frank as the hired help shrugged. He had been expecting the same thing as well. Thats why he took his time. Had they run out of tricks? It was an exceptionally large bag. It was put into his lap as the guard returned to his post and Frank pushed over the waves of caps. It was the truth.

"No more tricks, no more lies, no more debt." Leon stated, attracting the attention of the aspiring crime lord. "In that bag is the exact amount we owe you." A knot had started forming in his stomach. Something seemed off about the walls.

"Well well! This is good news!" _Two thousand caps, like this day could get any better!_ "I didn't expect to see this day so soon. You boys made more in two months then that useless man Eval could ever hope to acquire!" He laughed a cackling laugh. Rage started piling up between the brothers, the vicegrip was starting to loosen on Rhoke's shoulder as he shifted his butterfly knife in that sleeve closer towards his hand. It was almost show time.

"I'm proud of you boys." Evergreen continued, "You've started down the road to becoming great entrepreneurs!"

"We don't want to be associated with you anymore dickhead." Leon said calmly, "We settled our debt with you because we're honest men, and we did it without having to become a corrupt fat fuck like you." Leon gave himself a self-satisfied smirk. Rhoke was still a loose cannon ready to be set off.

Franks grin faded into a scowl. "Somehow I knew this day was today." The walls to each side and behind the brothers slid over to reveal four men in each space, a bouncer suit on each of them. Sunglasses dotted some, hats on others. Eached was armed with either a plank of wood, some sort of knife, or brass knuckles. "I prepared for it. I wanted to be sure you left with at least one reminder to your service to me!" He started laughing like a maniac as the guards filed out of their squat hideaways. "Give these boys a proper greeting into adulthood!"

Like a well rehearsed play, the brothers Durant sprang into action. Being in this situation over twenty times before had trained the two exceptionally at fighting bad odds. The most important rule they followed was to not kill anyone. Murder made you a wanted man. The NCR frowned on that sort of thing. It was okay though, the amount of pain most of them would experience in a moment would certainly act as a fighting deterrent.

Leon snapped his hand away from Rhoke's shoulder, his middle finger catching the edge of his butterfly knife and popping it from its built-in casing. Catching it in mid air, blade down, and turning around in one smooth motion, the nearest brute had already started a right hook aimed for his face, and used his circular motion to slide just out of his range. Leon brought down the butterfly knife, sinking all six inches of blade into the man's shoulder, and quickly pulling out at a different angle. These guys were not professionals, and a critical enough injury could make them useless in the fight. Rhoke had literally jumped at the nearest guard, a shaggy-haired brute whose face was distorted to comical proportions as the momentum of his leap transferred into the man's face, his body followed the force into the two goons behind him and bowled the group over. A gorilla of a henchmen jumped onto Rhoke's back. He regretted the decision as soon as it was made when the six foot man started running backwards at an alarming rate, four of the thugs waiting to get a shot at Leon suddenly had one of their own knocking them over.

A very large expulsion of breath was heard as the man slammed against the wall. The length of his spine snapping straight up with the flat surface all the way to the base of his head, rendering him unconscious. A large bouncer had followed Rhoke and tried to get his arms around him in a massive bear hug. A punch to his gut followed by an uppercut yielded no results, only pain.

Leon cut a man along the length of his ribcage who had rushed him and missed a tackle. A plank of wood hit Leon in the back of the knee, making him drop onto that limb. He glimpsed up just in time to see the serrated knife come down across his face, bouncing off of his left cheek bone and taking a crooked strip of flesh all the way to the end of his jawline. This wound screamed in pain and so did he.

Rhoke was caught off guard by the yell of his brother and got decked from his left. He managed to grab the shirt of the man who snapped his head all the way back for a full three seconds and replied with a headbutt to the man's nose and facial features. He felt the cartilage give way to his thick skull and a shriek of pain escaped lips of the receiver.

Leon jumped away from the knife wielder, who flinched away from the alarming screech that Leon let out. Outside the room, the music had successfully suppressed any noise that escaped the room. Another thump suppressed as Rhoke drove a kick full force into a goon's ribcage, he bounced off the wall, leaving dents where his elbows and head impacted the wall. Something glass in storage fell over with a loud enough clatter to be heard over the music into the fight room.

Leon started his symphony of pain again, catching a fist aimed at his gut, stabbing this man through the muscle in his forearm and kicking him off, using his feet to push him away from another hired hand that had gotten his hands on a chair. It grazed his left leg as he evaded the brunt of the blow. Falling low and driving the blade along the back of the man's left calf. He fell over onto himself in a heap of flailing limbs, his leg no longer supporting his weight.

Rhoke felt cold steel rush through the left side of his ribcage when he moved out of the way of a flying glass bottle. One of the shaded ones had driven a broken screwdriver between two his ribs. It missed his lungs by half a centimeter. He gave a disgruntled "Fuck you!" before popping the man in the throat.

Leon felt the wooden chair swing around into his back and break. He fell over, inadvertently landing behind a guard who took a fist to the chest and fell over Leon's crouching form, landing on the back of his head.

The two had certainly done well, better then they usually did. Ten of the men we're on the ground by now, three more wounded but willing to fight. That left five fresh soldiers to take out. Too many. Rhoke fell to one knee behind his brother, trying to catch his breath, surrounded. His face was starting to hurt from moving so much. Leon knew it was time to go as well, his knife wound pleading for medical attention. The taller brother got to his feet.

Making up his mind, he threw his butterfly knife at Frank, who was watching the whole time with voracious interest as usual. He ducked in a panic, hands going over his head when he saw that the blade was meant for him, the blade biting deep into his left forearm before being stopped by the chair.

"Something to remember me by!" Leon shouted as he grabbed Rhoke by the collar and dragged him up. Leon started his dead sprint through the bar, knowing full well that the employees were obligated to try and stop him. Rhoke had managed to get to his feet as the two stumbled out of the hallway into the club and was now trying to catch his second wind. They ran past Whitley, who had the shotgun out but had conveniently emptied it when she saw that the two brothers walk into the back room. She pulled the trigger in their general direction, it clicked empty, and the she yelled a hasty 'Good luck!' after the two, a handful of bruisers following them.

Rhoke had fallen behind by about five steps, trying to regulate his breathing, Mark had taken up all the space of the door, getting into a tackling position to stop the fast brother. The door guards had an order to stopping the Durant brothers as well. Leon couldn't go through the man-tank, and decided to squeeze by whatever space offered the most room. This ended up being the area above the hulking guard crotched like a bull ready to charge. Mark was taken by surprise as Leon dived over his stance. It usually stopped him all those other times, but failed today. He stood straight up and looked behind him in surprise as Leon slid onto the ground pass the steps into the bar on his stomach and elbows, getting up and continuing in a dead sprint.

Rhoke caught his second wind, taking a deep breath on the run before drop kicking into the unaware giant's chest just as he turned to face the second brother, and rode his body like a surf board until they met the ground, giving off a hasty 'sorry' like he always did to Mike, who didn't deserve to get hurt as much as he did, and followed after his brother.

The new girl was next in Leon's way, she didn't even know how to begin stopping these guys, Leon outright ran past her, punching her in the right thigh with such force her muscle cramped up. She cursed and fell over, slowly starting to get up again. Last but not least was 'Cutter' Grace who charged Leon head on, swinging a right hook. He let the blow slide around his left shoulder, gave Grace the most gentle kiss on the lips, this lasting a fourth of a second as he grabbed her over-extended arm, rotated a hundred and eighty degrees on the spot, and threw her over his shoulder.

She couldn't remember how she ended up on the ground.

At this point in time, Rhoke was just running past the new girl who had finally gotten up, and he popped her in the left thigh as hard as he could, causing her to fall over once again, screaming with more fury then anything else. He held a curious look at Grace lying in the dirt with the most strange expression on her face before catching up with his brother at the end of the road. Spectators had been gathered now, the local NCR casting curious glances from alleys on different streets.

The remaining bruisers had slowed down now, walking in a wall that proceeded down the street, and stopped about fifty yards from the brothers. The wall parted for Frank Evergreen, who arrived three minutes later on the scene. He simply stared out at the boys. He made a gesture with both of his hands, prompting the two to say something.

Rhoke and Leon exchanged glances, blinking repeatedly, they'd been waiting for this moment since childhood. Grins spread over each of their faces. _Freedom..._

The two crimson coated brothers raised their hands and shouted "_Freedom!"_ For all of the heavens to hear in the middle of a dust filled road of the Western Wasteland.

* * *

><p>Grace simply laid in the middle of the road, Frank's bodyguard trash passing into her peripherals. Suddenly a call broke the night silence, shattering her stillness. Not catching what it was, she got up and a soreness worked its way up her back. She glimpsed at her posse down the road. The new girl took a step and fell over, cursing to herself. Mike was waving his right hand in the air, probably trying to get someone's attention.<p>

Grace got up and walked over to him, he usually got the worst of the door bouncers. As she looked at the callous bouncer lying at the doorsteps of the club he guarded, she moved around to his right arm that was waving around nonchalantly and helped pull the man up. He clutched at his whole of his chest with his entire left forearm through the entire process.

"I... I think he broke my ribs." His voice rang out somber and tearful, "All of my ribs."

"It'll be okay Mike," Grace replied, "I think he broke my heart."

And there you have it! Chapter One is done. Its introducing the area the first conflict will be around, and it wont be with the Legion, at least not directly. The big Legion threat won't be around for another chapter or two. I wanted to submit this when I was at least half done with the second chapter but thought better of it. Expect the next chapter some time around Tuesday, or even Monday if I work hard enough on it. I don't want to rush myself because my work turns to crap. I don't want that and neither do you, so please feel free to rate and review.


	3. 3: Upon Crimson Wings

**Chapter Two:Upon Crimson Wings**

Morning greeted the eldest Durant brother rudely. Leon found himself on the kitchen floor, an assorted pile of empty alcoholic beverages scattered about. The two had hosted a party in honor of new found freedom, some of the neighborhood friends were still present, sleeping in whatever nook and cranny they could find comfortable inside the Durant apartment.

He slowly stood up, working his hand on a kink that had developed in his neck due to sleeping on the floor. A minor hangover plagued his brain while he stumbled out of the kitchen to walk into what no longer resembled the living room. There were bottles everywhere, Rhoke's requisitioned minigun lay on the table, repair equipment scattered when Leon started a party. The couch appeared unscathed though, and the table that took up the bulk of the living room was fine as well. It was always missing that leg. The cinder block that held it up was missing though. A game of darts had gotten out of hand from the looks of it as well.

He spotted Tim, a large African neighbor who came over for poker night occasionally, slumped over in a corner where an end table had been originally. Jerald, a red-headed and stocky ammo press worker that had become acquainted with Rhoke's abrasive personality, had stolen a blanket from one of the beds and slept next to the door, head cradled in the nook of his arm. The good doctor Sara was seen on the couch. She actually came over every Friday and sometimes stayed full nights, because Friday was debt night and the two were usually too beat up to do anything except go home and sleep. There was an unmoving form shadowed by Sara Garrett's body whom turned out to be Rhoke, his face buried in a corner of the couch, a bottle of vodka held loosely by his hand and the floor.

_Damn,_ Leon thought to himself, _Thought she had a thing for me too._ He'd decided to wake the other two present. A kick to the leg for Tim, a shaking of the shoulders for Jerald, and the two stumbled out of the apartment with customary silence, one of them was mumbling something under his breath, probably Jerald complaining about work tomorrow.

As he had watched the two stumble out into the morning sun, almost falling off the second story apartment rampart, Leon started remembering what had happened last night. A lot of drinking, followed by poker, and then other improvised drinking games. _Nothing hot and heavy, better make sure theres nobody in my bed anyway._

Leon navigated the living room like it was covered in land mines, trying not to make too much noise. There was another female at the party that he hadn't spotted yet. Grace had shown up unexpectedly and decided to get piss drunk with them. The details were lost on him but she turned out to be a lightweight and passed out in his room within a few hours. Truth is, Leon had a crush on Grace ever since he set eyes on her. Something about her 'take charge' personality that stuck out compared to her dark hair and nimble face.

He entered his bedroom, she was sitting up on top of his mattress, hands upon her face and still trying to get her bearings. Her jet black hair had bits and pieces sticking at odd angles from sleeping heavily.

"Morning sunshine." Leon caused her to turn immediately towards the door frame he was standing in. She cringed at the words as well.

"Ssshhh, I don't wanna hear it. I got the hangover of a lifetime." A visible surprise could be seen on Leon's face as his right eyebrow moved up his face as a drawbridge would. She had only drunk three bottles of scotch. He only had five, and the hangover he had was considered light. Maybe he should learn to lay back on the booze a bit...

Grace started the conversation back up.

"The only reason I came over was because I wanted to give one last goodbye. I know I'll never catch you back at work anymore. I was thinking I could try to make plans to visit you outside of the club."

"You mean to try and make amends with the young boy? I thought you wanted someone 'more mature'." Leon shot back. He was hellbent on keeping that old wound opened up.

"And I regret that, because honestly you really have matured." As much as that blindsided Leon, he decided to put on his stern face facade while she continued.

"I was looking for someone who was responsible enough to take care of himself. I never realized it until last night, but thats exactly what you and your brother have been doing. The two of you shed blood, sweat, and tears to pay off that debt. You didn't deserve to be turned down the first time you asked me to dinner. I thought I'd make up for it by dropping by yesterday."

"I don't know anymore.I think you're gonna look pretty damn stupid if money is what influenced you."

"...You know what, this was a mistake," She started, "I'm leaving." She got up, and moved past Leon, trying not to wake the two on the couch. She obviously started the day on the wrong foot.

"Fine." He didn't try to stop her. She made it sound like she only wanted to get with him after he paid his debt. For all Leon knew, she was being put up to this by her boss. But he seriously doubted that last bit, and everyone deserves second chances. He would just give it some time is all. "Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out." He mumbled as she walked out, she gave him the finger, and quickly fell off the scaffolding that acted as the front porch for all of the second story apartments. _They really need to put up some sort of safety bar or something. Thats the eighth person to fall off this thing in a month._

* * *

><p>Rhoke woke from a deep sleep with Leon's last words as he opened his eyes to darkness, he was facing the inside of the couch. Least he wasn't on the floor compared to the last time he got wasted. He turned his head and found himself staring out into the living room through a veil of what appeared to be yellow-white silk. He blinked, still unmoving. He heard the light snoring of a passed out Sara on top of him before he felt her weight upon his back. <em>Damn this is gonna be awkward. Don't think about it, or your face will light up like a laser beam.<em>

He tried to move his left arm, her arms splayed across his back made mobility nigh impossible without waking her up. Her right arm was curled against his neck, her left fallen limp across both bodies and almost against the floor. It was brushing against his, the vodka bottle falling from his hand with a soft clink. _This was gonna be really awkward._

After about thirty minutes Rhoke's patience had been worn thin, he could hear Leon cleaning up last night's mess in the kitchen, and actually saw brief flashes of limbs out the view obstructed by Sara's hair from when he straightened out the table's missing leg. He tried to whisper for help but trying anything over the louder clink of bottles would probably wake up Sara. _My face is gonna catch fire as soon as I make eye contact with her._

"Hey... um Sara? Its time to wake up." Rhoke said this quietly, a mumbling around the lines of _'one __more minute.'_ Was heard, and at this point Rhoke's face was already turning a shade redder. He couldn't handle these kinds of social situations at all.

"Sara, you gotta get up..." Rhoke started again. She pushed the long hair from her eyes and inadvertently out of the younger brother's vision. She appeared to be looking for something.

"Oh hell... I need something that isn't laced with alcohol, Rhoke? What time is it?" She was up now, and looking around. When she realized she was on top of him, she froze. Rhoke turned a palpable crimson but kept his composure.

Instead of making eye contact, he instead looked at the clock mounted on the wall at the end of the table. He had fixed it himself. Eleven-fifteen it read.

"Its fifteen after eleven Sara." He flinched in pain when she jumped off his back with graceless agility, her five foot-eleven inch frame dug its weight into soft parts of his back with sharp elbows and thin hands.

"Shit! I'm gonna be late for work." She grabbed her white doctor coat off a doorknob to a wardrobe in one of the corners and bolted out the open door to the house. A yelp was heard as she ran right over the scaffolding and hit the dirt. Leon watched this beautiful drama unfold from the kitchen as Rhoke stepped on a wrench and tripped after her. Rhoke continued with the momentum, and shot out the door, finally landing against the end of the scaffolding and shouting a quick 'Are you okay?' from its edge.

Leon stepped over Rhoke's legs, a case of empty bottles in each arm, he stopped to address the two figures. "Good morning to you too, your lady friend okay down there?" Sara was staring up at the two in bewilderment. She got up, straightened her coat, which was now dirt colored, and continued down the road while trying to maintain composure in front of her childhood friends. Remembering something she turned around and yelled at the brothers.

"Don't forget to come in for your checkup! That means you too Leon!" And she started towards her mother's office with a jog.

Rhoke was broken out of his trance by a boot hitting him in the leg, "C'mon, theres another crate on the table, lets get this to Barry n' get our money back."

The younger brother got up and went into the kitchen, slipping two water bottles into his back pocket for the trek back, and then grabbed the crate of empty bottles. They would cash these in for a refund to the water trader and get about half the caps spent buying it. It was a good deal they had taken advantage of since Eval had started drinking and passed the habit to his sons.

Leon was already down the road, Rhoke started a jog to catch up and walk with him.

"What do we have to do today? Tomorrow I gotta work at the presses so if you have anything you need done tell me now." Rhoke was straight to the point about schedules. They learned to keep one thanks to the painful lessons taught by Frank Evergreen's henchmen

"After we trade off with Barry, I want you to take a look at that rifle I got yesterday and see what needs done on it. I was told the bolt needs replaced but theres probably some other work that needs done." A nod from Rhoke, "Afterwards, remind me to take Sara's med bag that she forgot to her office."

* * *

><p>The good doctor found herself without her 'Away' medical bag she had taken with her to the Durant's home. Her office was a right turn down the road from the <em>Mighthouse<em>, and she often saw the two brothers coming and leaving the bar, often bloody and wanting to go home. She had learned to wait for them at their apartment and patch them up there. Last night was no exception, well, except they got drunk... and fell asleep on top of Rhoke when she was checking the nasty stab wound for the third time. That idiot could've died again, but nothing some stimpacks couldn't fix. Leon now had a vertical laceration that matched his brother's in shade as well as some bruises and splinters in his back.

_I turned that poor boy a shade of crimson I thought only gushed from fatal wounds. _Sara thought as she mindlessly swabbed over an NCR soldier's radscorpion sting with disinfectant. A cotton patch was placed on the soldier's thigh and medical tape was applied to keep it there, the antivenom had been ingested in the field but infection was nasty business that should be avoided when possible.

"There, you're done soldier," The soldier nodded in appreciation as she wrote down the soldier's treatment fee on the NCR tab. They paid it off every week for the clinic's efficient work, so it was a good deal for everyone to keep all of the soldiers coming to this doctor office. She only had three people that picked up shifts in her work though, one of them Sara's mother. The other two training under her.

Sara sat behind the counter that led to the back offices and pondered the brothers while she had no patients. _Leon was a swindler at heart but brought up well. He was cute too, but Rhoke could be adorable without knowing it. He is always trying to avoid eye contact with me as well... Its a shame his face got tarnished, but Leon wasn't kidding. It really does reflect his abrasive personality. The kid needs to get out more._

Two NCR soldiers burst past the door with a third being carried in between them on a makeshift stretcher. Sara snapped to attention and ordered them to follow her into the back room with beds, she'd done this before. After being laid down, Sara started observing what happened to the soldier, there was plenty of blood being thrown from his body.

African, male, bullet wounds, at least four across the chest. Dark blood poured along one that centered in his chest. It had clipped one of the arteries leading to his heart, if he was going to live, it would be a miracle. She put on a new pair of gloves and sedated the patient when another group of NCR walked in, a female crying in pain on the stretcher, gawking at where her right foot used to be. Sara had only dealt with one amputation in her whole career, and the wound was messy enough to make her stomach churn uncomfortably.

She ordered the patient onto the adjacent bed next to her. Getting her bearings, she sedated this one as well and ordered the first soldier to press against the wound with a clean towel. Something was going down, something big, she'd need help.

"You!" She pointed to one of the NCR soldiers, who jumped a little as he was gazing onto the first patient that had entered. "Go down to the ammo press, look for the two story house and get Olivia Garrett. Now dammit!" He ran off, she directed her attention to the other two standing around. Sara told these NCR to leave and get back to duty, the lack of protesting led her to believe that she was correct, there would be more. The final one she ordered out of his armor and to put on plastic gloves, the first patient would require complex work if he was to be saved.

_What in the hell was going on out there?_

* * *

><p>The two brothers had arrived back at the apartment after their dealings with Barry the water merchant, Rhoke returning to his room to change clothes. He had spilled vodka onto his pants, but didn't notice the smell when he left as the whole apartment reeked of alcohol. Rhoke came out wearing a dark green undershirt and a gray hooded sweatshirt that was torn in places, with cargo jeans with a pair of steel-toed boots. He felt today had demanded steel-toes.<p>

Leon had already changed before they left, choosing a gray shirt with a good leather vest and blue jeans with NCR produced running shoes. The government was doing a good job at producing commodities back West. They eventually worked their way over here as well.

He left his room to see Rhoke sitting on the couch, the radio pulled up and playing some unnamed classical while he chowed down on a can of Pork n' Beans.

Leon sat next to him. He hadn't noticed until now, but the 10mm pistol he left at the door of the _Mighthouse _was on the table as well. Rhoke had followed his gaze.

"Grace brought it." He said abruptly, and got back to his lunch. She had brought the other stuff as well, his butterfly knife, about twenty throwing knives that accumulated over time, and other assorted blades he used as decoy to the bouncers at Frank's club. He sat down next on the opposite side of the couch and studied his firearm. Slowly but surely, he started to disassemble it, inspecting the parts and taking an old rag that always seemed to on the table to the bits that needed it. He hadn't taken the time to do this until now and needed to catch up. Filling out a 10mm clip and sliding it into the weapon with a satisfying click, Leon set the pistol back down.

Rhoke got up from the couch, tossing the spent can into a plastic bin as he opened up the wardrobe where the rifle was stored. _It was a piece of work alright, but should be able to fire in no time. _He pulled up the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt, he couldn't stand long sleeves. They agitated his bandages and no working man wanted long sleeves to get caught in machinery like a few of the workers had accidentally done before.

Sitting down with the rifle, he started dissecting the parts, the metal that kept the barrel and stock together would need replaced. The bolt was bent out of shape as well. The stock was almost split at the butt end and could shatter if it wasn't held down so Rhoke got to work on that since it could be done here. Picking up a clamp, he tightened down the butt end of the rifle as tightly as he could from top to bottom, grabbing a piece of scrap metal lying around, he hammered nails into pre-drilled holes and into the wood lightly, trying not to split it. Done successfully, Rhoke rounded the bits of metal off with duct tape and turned to Leon.

"I need the bolt and some time at the forge." Rhoke stated, "Run down to the market and meet me there." He grabbed the rifle and a small bag full of scrap metal and left. The door closed behind him, Leon got up as well and got into his cap stash, a hidden box underneath the couch. Pulling out about two hundred, he left as well. Locking the door behind him and greeting the afternoon sun with a grin, Leon took off toward the market.

* * *

><p>Down the lot road, taking a right, he passed plenty of faces he recognized, a smile here, a wave and greeting there. He knew this town and its inhabitants well. Well enough to notice an unusual amount of NCR troops running around. It was strange, something was going down. A sudden burst of firearms racket and an explosion broke the near-silence of the town. It was probably just a training drill the officers run the new guys through to keep them on their toes.<p>

Ignoring the noise, Leon went into the market district, caravans passed around, their goods displayed on the backs of Brahman and the stalls that lined the streets. He spotted one that had the rifle on its back and approached the trader.

Conversation was had, and prices were argued. No go, the trader wouldn't give up the rifle for more then five hundred. Leon shrugged it off and met up with another caravan trader who had the same rifle, but it was in even better condition then the first, and he didn't have the money for that. A third merchant was noticed with the rifle, and from the looks of it trying to convince someone that the thing falling apart in his hand was still in perfect condition. Unconvinced, the man left and the merchant looked at the ground with a disheveled look.

Leon approached the man, "How much for the rifle?"

The man's eyes lit up, "Three hundred caps."

"How about a hundred and fifty?"

"Sorry, can't go lower then two-fifty."

"Two hundred or I walk away, and I gotta say, I'm not buying to rifle to fire it. Only an idiot would want to fire that death trap. But good luck selling it to anyone else who wants to shoot it!" He shouted, making sure anyone twenty meters away heard him. The man's face was painted in a scowl, knowing full well what just happened.

"Fine, two hundred."

Leon snatched the rifle from the man's hand, the stock literally fell off at this action and landed between the two men. The merchant gave back fifty caps and picked up the stock, throwing it in a bin on the back of the Brahman. _Strange world we live in isn't it?_

He worked his way past the market and over to the town forge. It was a public building, a molten pit powered by a fusion engine salvaged from a car. Rhoke was working a piece of metal over a rock that was flat enough to handle the blows. Leon patiently waited until he was done, Rhoke didn't like being interrupted during work unless it was important. The metal dipped into the water with a pair of tongs, let off steam, and was dropped next to the rifle on the table. The rifle had gone through some elaborate repair, metal lined most of the barrel, ranging from metal bands that circled fully and braces that were screwed in. The grip along the rifle had Brahman leather along the side and duct tape at the tips. The barrel itself was polished. Probably on the inside as well.

Rhoke approached Leon with the bit of metal, the older brother next to the table the maintained was being carried out on. it fitting perfectly along the top of the rifle, the top was annotated with small metal bits that looked to be sights. Rhoke used a screwdriver to put the metal back into its original position, right in front of where the bolt should be. Leon handed over the scrap rifle, which was immediately dissected and left for scavengers to pick over in a designated bin. A civilian crowd had gathered around Rhoke, some were interested in the trade, others in the rifle. A select few took the bits left from the broken weapon and moved over to some other project going on in the forge.

Inserting the better parts from the scrapped gun, Rhoke reassembled the hunting rifle. It now looked as capable of killing something as it was the first day it rolled off the assembly line. A five-round clip of .308 ammo was sitting on the table, Rhoke inserted it into the feed, moved the round into the barrel, aimed at a nearby metal bucket mounted against a thick wooden support beam, and fired.

Nothing happened. Rhoke slapped himself upon the forehead and turned the safety off. Pulling the trigger again, the rifle successfully fired, the .308 round, punching through the metal bucket and into the beam. And a successfully repaired rifle was finished. Rhoke gave a small smile to Leon who was grinning like a loon.

The crowd parted, the interesting parts over, and the brothers moved off to the apartment.

"You've done it again Rhoke, dad would be proud." Leon started.

"It wasn't too hard.." Rhoke said.

"That didn't stop you from working your magic and bringing that gun back to life now did it?" Leon said rhetorically.

"To Sara's next then?"

"Yeah, we'll put the rifle up and grab the med bag. Bet shes been flippin out about missing that piece of equipment."

Silence followed them back, NCR troops patrolled in the late afternoon sun. There seemed to be more of them out now, and not in the casual 'lets go drinking!' way either. They had their rifles in hand and were scanning the groups of people that went through. A glint of a scope betrayed the position of a sniper atop one of the larger buildings.

"You noticed it too right?" Leon said, the shorter of the two nodded, he cast suspicious glances back and forth. Others were starting to notice as well, bunkering down in their homes, casting wary looks from doors and windows.

Turning down the road home, they found that NCR rangers were going door to door and asking questions. It was an unnerving sight. Someone was in for it.

The two closed and locked the door behind them, putting the rifle up in the wardrobe, Rhoke grabbed his .32 revolver and twenty five rounds, the gun already loaded. Leon put on his 'fighting' vest, putting 9mm cartridges into the slots and looking around for his pistol. He found it on the table where he had left it, it was already putting a loaded clip in and everything. He didn't have a holster for it yet, so he slipped it into one of the knife holding pockets on the inside of his vest. Something was nagging him, something important. It was right at the edge of his thoughts but he couldn't bring it out. This thought was replaced by an itch from his right butt cheek, the scabbing wound was starting to heal but it was really irritating the skin around it.

He eyed the minigun on the table.

"Hey Rhoke!" His brother arrived from his room, the revolver in a holster on the back of his belt. "You gonna bring this thing with us?" Leon said. A neutral gaze met his own.

"I could if you really wanted me to... It'll slow me down but I could do it. Its got a sling and everything." He moved over to the machine and picked it up. Fifteen pounds could be a dangerous burden on the battlefield until he got used to lugging it around. Rhoke wasn't a soldier though. He slapped in a two-hundred n' forty round box of ammo into its side anyway. For all they knew, they had a Legion army on their doorsteps. He grabbed two of the other boxes of ammo and slipped them into each of the extra pockets his cargo jeans gave him. He couldn't close the pocket anymore but the rounds wouldn't go anywhere anytime soon.

He was forced to move the .32 revolver to his left side, the minigun was banging against it and pressing into his flesh uncomfortably. Leon grabbed the medical bag, and put it into his backpack for safe keeping. The butterfly knife up his sleeve in a hidden pocket and the throwing knife brace wrapped around his torso this time.

Leon moved to the door with Rhoke and a knocking rang out in the silence before they even got to unlock it. Moving away from the door, Rhoke, pulled out the minigun and held it toward its intended target on the other side of the wall.

He had never fired the thing, but that wouldn't stop him if it came to that. Leon asked who it was, the reply rang across the room, carried by the metal trailer sidings.

"NCR ranger, please open up now." Female voice, defiantly not Legion. Legion didn't have female soldiers and spies.

Leon undid the lock and opened the door, stopping it enough to block view of Rhoke. He was still poised to open fire.

A female NCR ranger sat in front of the door, a cowboy repeater and a .357 magnum sat on her hip. Late afternoon light hid her face as her cowboy hat blocked the sun and other's vision from her eyes.

"We're going around and looking for anyone thats been contact with an NCR officer named Otis Weller." The ranger explained, "If you've seen anyone talking to him, please tell me." Leon took initiative to find out what was going on.

"I havent seen anything like that. Could you fill me in on what to look out for exactly? I was just about to leave when you showed up, and if I knew what the NCR was looking for and why I would gladly help."

"Well... since you could be an extra set of eyes out there, we're looking for anyone thats been in contact with this guy because he turned out to be a Legion spy. A couple guys on the north edge of town were forced to take him out. We caught him sending an unauthorized transmission back out to wherever his home base is. He was an administration officer in charge of keeping the peace between local businesses, so keep an eye out for store owners who are acting out of the ordinary. After scouring his home, we came across a number of explosive detonators. We think he was going to try and sabotage the ammo presses." It made sense. The ammo presses were important to the NCR, the whole thing going up in smoke would cripple troops in the East.

"That explains a lot, thank you." Leon said, opening the door all the way. Rhoke had presented himself, minigun slung on his back and water bottle in hand. "We'll be going now."

The NCR officer moved to knock on the next door in line, while the two brothers locked up and made way to Sara's doctor office. A woman jogging down the street bumped into Leon who was crossing onto the main road to the office. Apologizing, the woman started again, stopped in mid-jog and turned around with surprise.

"Leon? I haven't seen you in a month! What happened to your face? And Rhoke as well... Is this face scar thing a new trend? It doesn't suit you two well." A slight chuckle followed these words. It was Olivia Garrett. She was a woman in her fifties with almost white-blond hair her daughter had inherited. She had started the medical office when the town was founded and was a respected member of the community.

"Not really ma'am, we were on our way to your office to drop this off." Leon said, pulling out Sara's medical bag. Olivia took the bag.

"I'll take this to her for you, but now isn't a good time to visit the office. We've got injured NCR soldiers flooding in from nowhere."

"But we've gotta get our injuries checked." Leon replied, he really didn't want gangrene on his rear end.

"Fine. I'll check you up right here and now. Wheres your injuries?" The two didn't see that coming. Rhoke presented his forearms, she cut the bandages away with a scalpel and examined the lacerations with a precision known only in her field. She pulled out a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and swabbed over the wounds with a clean cloth. After bandaging his arms, she focused on his face, which received the same treatment.

"Now you." She addressed Leon. He hesitated, he'd have to drop his pants in the middle of the road then wouldn't he? "You know... on second thought..." He started.

"Where. Are. You. Injured." She said again. A serious tone overtaking any awkwardness of the situation. Medical wounds were no joke to her.

"The back of both of my legs." He replied.

"Drop em." He turned around and did as instructed. A passing NCR patrol was gawking at him, but taking it like a champion, he looked over grinning and gave a thumbs up to them.

After that little episode was done, Leon slid his pants back up and thanked the middle-aged woman. She gave off a quick 'your welcome' and scurried off to her office. People had lives that needed saving.

'Cutter' Grace observed her boss pacing back and forth in his club from behind the counter through the bottom of a bottle of scotch. The club had been closed today, the majority of the staff on medical leave as it usually was on every Saturday. He was sweating and mumbling to himself about something. The bandages on his back were gone, a surgical wound visible along the collar of his business suit. A new scar crossed his left forearm but it was hidden under the

Grace's train of thought was derailed as Mark walked in clutching an array of bandages around his chest. He sat down at the bar and asked for a beer. Obliging him, Grace provided and started making conversation with the broken brute while she could still talk straight.

"So, how many ribs?"

"Five." Ouch.

"Recovery time?"

"Long enough to where I may loose my job."

"Theres always other opportunities out there when you're all better. You could work at the ammo presses, or maybe become a courier or something." Another drink from the bottle. Leon had gotten to her alright.

"Yeah..." Mark's voice lowered, " Whats with the boss? He usually doesn't sweat and pace at the same time." He didn't want to point out Grace's sudden interest in the scotch bottle.

"No idea, I heard the NCR killed a Legion spy earlier today. Maybe thats whats got him on edge?"

"I don't know. Any idea about his surgery? It wasn't necessary done locally or else we would've caught wind of it in town." A deep drink from the brown beer bottle, followed by a fit of coughing.

"Not a clue. Not at all. You think the brother's had something to do with it?" Grace asked suddenly.

"If they aren't now, they will be soon. Those two know how to get into more trouble then we can put them through."

Suddenly it all made sense to Rhoke. Something clicked together and it was so derailing that he physically stopped in his tracks. Leon continued on until he noticed a lack of brother next to him. Rhoke had turned as pale as the scarred flesh of his face allowed him to turn.

"You okay Rhoke? you look like you just saw a deathclaw."

"Leon, I think I just figured out whats going on." Leon stayed silent, expecting an explanation. "Back to the apartment, I don't want extra ears catching this."

The door slammed behind the brothers, Rhoke set the minigun on the table and cracked his back. That thing would be a burden he would have to get used to.

Leon went into the kitchen, grabbing a Brahman steak for himself and a grilled mantis leg for his brother. The two took a seat on the couch and dug in.

"Now, please explain the situation." Leon said in between bites.

Rhoke cleared his throat, beating on his chest after a mouthful of mantis leg went down rough. "Okay, when I was in the armory sneaking out weapons for our trek into the Wes-Tek facility, I saw a _missile_."

"Umm, okay. We've seen missiles before, you almost got to kiss one, remember?" The steak was hungrily dug into once more.

"I don't mean a shoulder mounted missile. I mean one of those huge missiles that could be used to level cities."

"To be expected. Better in the armory then lying around for a group of raiders to find." Leon had already almost finished the steak.

"I went ahead and got a closer look at this thing, there were blinking lights and several open panels. I think somebody was tinkering with it." A look of concern wasn't something Rhoke put on often, as he was doing now.

"If its that serious why didn't you say something sooner." A worried work crossed Leon's face. It was put off largely due to the hunk of meat hanging from his mouth.

"I meant to, but I got distracted, I had forgotten about it by the time you told me everything else in the medical office yesterday." Rhoke set down the mantis leg on the table, it wasn't going anywhere.

"... Continue."

"I started putting all this information together. Armed missile, Legion spy who was trying to sabotage the ammo press. Legion spy had ties to local business owners. Frank Evergreen had surgery recently. I don't know how the last one fits in there but the answer lies with Evergreen."

"So we get Evergreen to spill the beans on his whole operation?"

"Thats the plan."

Leon threw the steak bone in the trash bin, "Lets get to work then!"

Rhoke interrupted his glory march. "Wait, Leon."

He turned around, the door was already open.

"Are those 9mm ammo clips?" Leon nodded. He didn't see where this was going.

"Aren't you using a 10mm gun?"

"... Shit, yeah I am. I didn't get to load any of the 10mm magazines except the one in it!" He exclaimed to his own stupidity.

"Leave the other magazines and take the rifle." Rhoke tossed three magazines with five shots each filled with .308 in a bundle to his brother. Picking up his unfinished mantis leg, he moved to the door with his brother. "Thats all we got plus a full clip in the rifle. If it comes down to it, make them count."

The two locked up once again, and left into the setting sun toward the _Mighthouse._

"Boss, we got company." One of the thugs hired by Frank yelled from the trap door in the kitchen down the line to Frank.

The short man walked over to the base of the ladder, "Is it NCR?"

"No, its those two boys that came by yesterday and kicked our asses." Frank hadn't been considering if the Durant brothers came by. They'd have no reason to unless they figured out what he was up to. He'd have to get rid of them with force this time. Nobody could figure out how royally screwed he was or how deep his betrayal of the town went.

"Are they armed?"

"Yes sir, the taller one has a rifle, and the smaller one has some sort of large device on his back."

Another goon on the roof yelled above the first, "Thats a goddamn minigun!"

"I don't think they're coming in to pay off debts boss." The first thug said.

_Shit, I can't let them find out. I can shoot them dead in the street, but then I'll be at the top of the NCR hit list. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. The plan fell apart when the Legion spy died. I might as well take Eval's damed sons off the face of the planet with me. Heh, If I go the whole town goes with me anyway._

"Kill them when you know you can do it in one shot." The goons didn't question the orders. They had killed before, it would be easy to do. The two were still about fifty meters away.

The two goons both had rifles, and propped them up against the building. They had little time before they were spotted. The first thug had already lined up a shot on the taller one. He was waiting on his buddy to hurry up. He was having trouble driving the round into the chamber. It finally clicked into place, the second man lined up as well.

The two brothers were approaching the building from the end of the road, looking into the sun. It certainly looked dramatic. As the two walked down, they noticed a lack of NCR and civilians on the road. It was strange. Rhoke could've sworn he saw something on top of the building but he was preoccupied with the mantis leg he had not yet finished. Leon slowed for a second, looking away from the building and then looking back towards the sun that crowned around it. He sneezed in an almost violent motion, and felt a bullet pass by his ear right where his head was a moment ago.

He visibly jumped, Rhoke looked back at his brother, confused. A round ricocheted off the back end of the minigun beside Rhoke's face. He jumped as well and skittered for cover. _Oh shit! I dropped my dinner._ The mantis leg lay in the middle of the road, unfinished.

The two had split on opposite sides of the road, Leon found refuge in an alleyway, Rhoke was forced behind a thinner sheet metal wall that was part of a wall for a house.

"Leon! You gotta go around and get rid of these bastards!" A shot rang against the sheet metal, passing straight through and kicking up dust where it landed. "Fuckin Hurry!"

Leon darted down the alleyway, slinging his rifle onto his back, and sped onto the adjacent street, looping around to the back of the club. He regretted not bringing one of those grenades. It would make this job easy. The back door didn't have any guards, a really fatal mistake tactically. Leon found the door opening on its own before he managed to try the knob.. Thinking fast, he dived behind a dumpster next to the door as two occupants walked out. He drew his 10mm pistol loaded with his only magazine and strained to hear what the two were saying.

"... Don'ts pays me enough toos kill tha' smug fucker." A female voice.

"You're stumbling all over the place, lets get you home." A deep male voice, almost hitting the lowest note known to man. Only Mark could sound like that.

They were about ten meters out now, Leon had to risk going for the door. He couldn't leave his brother in the street for too long. He bolted for the door, and was sure one of them had heard him. He locked it, knowing it would buy more time, and found himself in the back area of the kitchen. A quick glimpse down one of the corners told him where the trapdoor to the ceiling was. There was a goon standing there, probably told to guard it. Leon hesitated as he pulled out his pistol and eventually fired two shots into his chest as he revealed himself around the corner and rushed for the ladder.

It was the first time he had ever killed someone, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He holstered his weapon into his coat and climbed the ladder as quickly as he could. His brother needed him.

Rhoke's cover was dwindling, the holes in the metal giving away his position. He had gone as far as to hold onto the top of the sheet metal, which cut into his hands but had saved his life so far. One of the rounds clipped his right calf, but it hit his pants more then anything.

Not three minutes after the firing started, a cry of pain rang out followed by another gunshot, but nothing struck the metal barrier. Rhoke peeked out of his cover, his brother was pulling his switchblade out of the back of one of the thugs. What required more attention was the front door, where three of the bad guys had come out to investigate the ruckus. The Durants should've been dead by now. They were wrong.

Rhoke turned the corner, minigun in hand, already starting its spin cycle of destruction. He was running at them, the weapon would be more effective a little closer. He was screaming like a madman to get their attention as well. He stopped the guards in their tracks, who were almost inside the sanctuary of the club.

Rhoke pressed the firing trigger. The minigun continued to rotate, but did not fire. _Oh hell,_ Rhoke started to panic but kept running, _Its not firing why isn't it firing I'm still running at them its not working no no no no no! _The guards were starting to pull their weapons up, when one of them dropped to the ground with a loud echo. Another followed. The third guard didn't know what to do at this point as his comrade's skulls had seemingly exploded from behind, and was trying to retreat back into the club only to find the door locked behind him. Rhoke had closed the distance with the guard and started using the massive weapon as a cudgel. The goon was knocked to the ground with a staggering blow, Rhoke brought the minigun above his head and brought it down like an executioner's hammer. He didn't expect the man's head to simply give way under the minigun.

He blinked at the blood and gore, had he done that with one blow? Now was not the time to worry about it. He investigated his weapon, trying to see what had happened to cause the ammo to not feed in properly. A quick overview revealed that the 5mm box had been put in backwards. He slapped himself for such a stupid mistake that almost got him killed and put it in correctly. He noticed Leon atop the roof, looking down on him.

"You get it to work?"

"I did now."

"Alright, go ahead and bust in, kill everyone except Frank if you can help it." A nod followed. Rhoke's stomach did flips.

"Try not to shoot towards the kitchen, I'll run distraction until you burst inside and try to capture Frank. If he hasn't left already yet anyway." A minuite passed when small arms gunfire erupted inside the club.

Rhoke propped the minigun back into its firing position. He tried the door, it was locked. No matter, the doors in this town were all cheap fix-up jobs anyway. Rhoke backed away from the door, and charged up the steps. He met the door with his shoulder and it gave way. He quickly reorientated himself to take in everything that he saw.

Leon was pinned down behind the bar, at least seven goons were behind cover that ranged form metal to plastic. Fank was not to be found.

Rhoke pulled the firing trigger.

The machine kicked back hard, causing Rhoke to strain his arms as he moved it in the general area he wanted to aim it. The goons who were not in cover at that moment were turned into chunks of meat. The cover was dissolved before Rhoke's eyes, the men behind it peppered with rounds. They all hit the floor within seconds. Two more guards appeared from the hallway to the back rooms, Rhoke swept the machine over and let it do the work for him. The two brutes were cut down in seconds. The younger brother had finally let go of the trigger to survey what the machine had done to the room. Everything was dead. Everything. He shook where he stood. It was too much, too fast. Death shouldn't be this quick for anyone. He vomited.

He almost threw down the minigun after that episode, but then he remembered he had to catch up with his brother. Father had always said; _Put each other first, theres no replacement for each other._ Better make sure Leon didn't get in over his head.

Leon knew that there would be bruisers waiting at the front door. If Rhoke came in guns blazing with no armor, he'd have no chance of survival. Instead of that happening, Leon decided to act as a distraction. He pulled out the .308 rifle and picked off the man closest to him. The others immediately panicked and started looking for cover. Upon finding none, they overturned anything they could find, tables, chairs, even stools. Rhoke burst through the door with a grunt. The minigun on his back rotated and turned these men into so many pounds of wasted flesh in seconds.

It was a blood bath, but Leon didn't have time to gawk, he had to find Evergreen. Leon looped around the kitchen, finding that two guards had charged down the hall and been obliterated as well. He passed these corpses and decided to sneak down to the final doorway. Peering through the cloth blocking the door, Leon could see that Frank was pacing in the room by himself. Leon simply stepped into the room, rifle shouldered but not aiming at anything in particular. Frank had stopped, his face paled as he considered what he was looking at.

"Frank, I'd like a word with you."

Rhoke stepped in as well behind Leon. Something was off about him, he was shaken up. That could be addressed later.

"Frank," Leon had started again, "What the hell is going on? The shoot-on-sight policy was never something you went by. You're obviously shaken up, is it because a friend of yours was, perhaps, discovered by the NCR?"

"I..." Frank was doomed, he couldn't take on any of the Durants, he was tired, out of shape, and only had a .22 pistol on his person. The pop gun wont be enough to kill both before they retaliate. And then they all go up in smoke. Maybe it wouldn't matter anyway... _fuck it all._

"I messed up boys. I messed up bad." Frank had started, he put his hand to his face, raw emotion was starting to crack this con man's scheming exterior. Guilt and shame and regret flowed from the man in the form of his story.

"A few days ago, after one of the local business meetings we have to talk about future expansion of the town, an NCR officer pulled me over and had a talk with me. He filled my head with delusions of grandeur, the idea of ruling the whole town as de-facto leader, and eventually the entire Western Wasteland, under the banner of _Caesar's Legion._" He stopped there, scratching at the surgical incision at the top of his neck. "He said I could hold the town hostage if I had the key to its destruction. I left town to have a wireless detonator spliced to my vertebrae." The two brothers blinked rapidly, finally Rhoke spoke for the first time. He seemed to have regressed back into normal, cranky Rhoke.

"Do you know how fucking _stupid _that sounds!" Frank only nodded his head in solemn agreement. "You were going to hold the town hostage with your _life_? What the hell made you think this is a great idea-"

"I just wanted more power!" Frank cut him off, visibly shaking. "To be the man in charge, a little ambition shouldn't have lead to this. You gotta help me Leo!" Leon just stared at him. He had a look of neutrality that usually adorned Rhoke's face.

Before he could even answer, a 9mm submachine gun ripped through the air behind the brothers, roughly half an smg magazine ripping through the fleece door replacement. Diving to the side, Rhoke pulled out his revolver and put three rounds into the unknown aggressor. The body guard that had survived being pockmarked by the 5mm barrage somehow now had three fatal chests wounds and slumped over against the hall's metal corridor and died just as quickly as he appeared. Rhoke hadn't been hit, having moved toward the right side of the door.

Leon however frowned when he found that five bullet wounds on his person. He found it difficult to move his right arm at first, three rounds dotting the limb in a vertical fashion, another round grazed his hip and a final had lodged in his right shoulder. After finding all of these, he cursed loudly. The pain was setting after each sighting, the length of his arm was on fire. He leaned against the wall, clutching his crippled limb.

Frank Evergreen took most of the bullets. A number of holes dotted his chest in vital areas. There were more then ten. There was no question, he was going to die. Doomsday had been set in motion

"Rhoke!" Frank coughed out the smaller brother's name with a gob of blood from his position on the floor. "Run! Go... Disarm it!" Rhoke looked at his brother, who was writhing in pain, unable to

"Keep him alive." Was all that was said, Leon barely caught the words before Rhoke dropped the minigun on the floor with a loud clang and took off out of the building. Leon dug in his backpack to find that he only had one dose of Med-X. Frowning, he stabbed it into Frank's chest. Leon wasn't dying today, he wouldn't need it.

* * *

><p>Rhoke burst through the club door to find that the NCR had surrounded the building with all the uproar. Rhoke slipped and fell in front of the line of NCR soldiers, various deadly weapons pointed at him while he was stuck sitting on his ass. A female NCR soldier with brunette hair and service rifle walked over to him, rifle raised at his chest.<p>

"Who are you and what are you doing here!" She demanded, rifle barrel poking him in the chest.

"I don't have time for this!" Rhoke slapped the barrel away from his chest, the weapon firing into the sand. He picked up the female in a tackle and used her as a battering ram through the NCR line. The soldiers in the way were bowled over, the rest didn't even know how to react. Rhoke turned around now, the female NCR soldier's weapon being tossed aside with his momentum.

"Follow me if you want your officer back!" And with that the Durant brother took off, the NCR soldier kicking and screaming and hitting the scarred man that carried her. She yelled at the soldiers as she was carried away as well.

"What the hell are you doing! Save me dammit!" Shots rang out after the kidnapper, one of the 5.56 impacting his left arm as he took a right turn. _Holy shit that will hurt in a second. _Rhoke put the pain in the back of his mind, running as straight as he could toward the armory. Glancing behind him to see that the soldiers were trying to line up a clean shot. They couldn't now, he was too far down the road. The NCR soldier was screaming the whole time. Something along the lines of 'stop shooting at me' or 'you almost hit me you assfuck'.

The armory was approaching, it would be locked, Rhoke had picked it last time he was here, and locked it again so nobody would suspect his appraisal of firearms for the Wes-Tek scavenging job. He chose to ram through this door as well. Rhoke threw the NCR officer to the ground as he connected the corner of his left shoulder with the door. The door gave way, but something in Rhoke's shoulder did as well. He slid across the metal floor, clutching the dislocated limb. This was going from bad to worse in a hurry.

Looking up from his heap, it was seen that the missile was sitting diagonally against the far wall of the bunker, blinking lights still displayed from open panels. It barely fit in the armory, being roughly the size of a semi truck and trailer. It was neatly propped on a curved portion of concrete that had been broken to accommodate the deadly weapon. Rhoke walked over to it, clutching his shoulder with his good arm. He didn't even know where to start dissecting this thing.

The NCR officer was now approaching him, her sidearm drawn to his back as he started sorting through the wires poking from one panel. Rhoke could hear the shouts of soldiers outside, weapons being reloaded. He still didn't have time for the NCR.

"Stop what you're doing, right now!" The brunette officer demanded, she kept her distance this time. Obviously she was concerned with what the psychopath was doing to the enormous explosive.

Rhoke ignored her, pulling off a panel to reveal a small monitor and input keys below it. It was a start.

"I said stop right now!" She cocked her 9mm pistol for emphasis. Rhoke threw down the metal panel covering the monitor and started typing onto the keyboard. He was having difficulty lifting his arm up.

The officer was livid. She would've shot the man if not for the explosive missile on the other side of him. She pushed him against the device instead, weapon raised to the back of his head. The soldiers that gave chase were finally pouring into the building. All weapons were raised at the individual trying to save their lives. The irony was not lost to Rhoke. He turned his head as much as he could with the 9mm pressing into the base of his skull. He managed to look the officer in the eyes with one of his own.

"If I don't disarm this thing, we all die." Was his ultimatum.

* * *

><p>"Leon." Frank sputtered, "Stand me up... I don't wanna die in this- this shitty little room." Frank managed to choke the words out, blood flowing from his small wounds in torrents now. Leon propped the dying man up and supported him with his good arm as the two dragged each other passed the broken bodies and eventually out the front door. There were two NCR soldiers who greeted them with weapons drawn, and just as quickly put away.<p>

"We need to get you to a doctor." One of the soldiers said to Frank. Frank shook his head, he knew his time had come.

"Leon, you see that bench? At th-" A gob of blood hit the ground with a smack, "The end of the street?"

Leon didn't even nod his head, carrying the bleeding man down the road, blood trailing behind both of them. Reaching the bench after what felt like an hour in Leon's shot-up state, he sat Frank down on the bench and took a seat himself, facing Frank's club and the sunset behind it. Frank's rate of bleeding was slowing down, his time on this earth was drawing ever closer as all the blood drained from his system.

"You know Leon," Frank started, the brother paying attention to the dying man's words. "I didn't plan on going out like this. I wanted to be famous, to be remembered. Like those-" A cough, more blood on his business suit. "Like those pre-war leaders we never really forgot about. It was my biggest fear, being forgotten. I ha-had the ambition to..." Frank trailed off, he was finding it hard to concentrate. He continued out of sheer willpower. "To get to the top, but I took the wrong pa-th. I'm so sorry Leon, to both of you. The truth is I had your father killed out of fear." Leon's face turned to granite, he had suspicions but Frank's death was beyond his own power now. What good would revenge do for a dying man whose fate was already decided?

The con man continued on, "He learned how far I was willing to go for my goal and didn't want to associate with me, we split. Two months ago, he caught me in my first meeting with the Legion spy and... and-" More blood, coughing fits springing up gouts of the stuff. "I was ordered to kill him, or the spy would. The Legion makes people suffer, I didn't want that to happen to him."

"Just... don't worry about it." Leon didn't know what to say at this point. He had been brought up to believe every person deserved a second chance. The man who had taught him this was his father, and his father's killer was right here confessing it as his last deed on this planet to him.

"...Frank?" The con artist was immobile, eyes closed facing toward his business that was outlined in the setting sun. _Oh no._

Instead of the impending firestorm he expected to engulf the entire town, a small earthquake had started up. Buildings started shifting back and forth, their construction not planned to endure. Leon stood from the bench, looking around and finding it hard to balance. The quakes died down as soon as they had started. A missile, no, _the missile_, had _taken off, _and was now headed in a direction that appeared to be North East to parts unknown. Rhoke had done it, that glorious bastard!

* * *

><p>Lines and lines of text flashed across the askew screen, most of the instructions unintelligible to Rhoke. The NCR officer was taking a chance here, she knew it, but if this maniac was speaking the truth, it didn't matter what they would believe unless he could disarm this thing. A minute passed, the soldiers all looking at the injured man's back as he worked.<p>

The monitor was shut down, and the man turned around. "I want everyone except you two-" He pointed to the NCR officer and a new recruit who was shaking in his boots despite his amazing build. "-to take out as many of the explosives as you can, then start with the firearms." The soldiers didn't question the order vocally but carrying explosives while being next to a large explosive detonation was usually a bad idea. The two pointed out stepped forward. Grabbing a sledgehammer and tossing it to the large recruit with his good arm, he spoke again.

"See where the missile is pointing? I want you to hammer the tin roof away from that area." The man pointed to the corner where the missile end was nestled in. "I disarmed the missile, but I can't stop it from launching. We gotta make sure this thing gets out of town safely." The recruit timidly moved off to do his job, going outside the building so that he may start from the roof.

The eavesdropping soldiers breathed a sigh of relief, the missile wouldn't detonate. That meant that everyone was safe from its contents. The missile itself would've set off everything in the armory though, possibly leveling half the town in the process. Getting this thing out safely was priority one.

The psychotic man had moved to the far side of the missile, and started examining it. Getting it out safely was actually priority two for him. He had taken a nearby welding setup and started burning an inscription onto the side of the missile. _I don't know why, but I feel like I need to claim this bit of poetic justice as my own. _The ache in Rhoke's shoulder made the task harder, but not impossible. The inscription was done. If he ever found the missile, he would know it was his.

"Hey um... crazy guy! We need your help moving this sheet of the wall over here." The NCR officer was calling him over. Putting the welder back, Rhoke pulled out the metal pins holding the last corner of the wall back. Not being much help but the task done, he yelled for everyone to get out of the area and make sure nobody got near the place.

Across the road to the armory, the NCR communication station, a fortified building that could be considered a safe distance away. Everyone in the nearby buildings were cleared out and moved to the opposite side of the city. Rhoke decided to take the ramp to the roof of the NCR comm station. He wanted to see this thing go.

Seconds ticked by, and as the sun kissed the land, a great tremor shook the town of Ira. Nearly falling off the roof, Rhoke had caught himself on one of the sand bags dotting the flat surface, and shielded his eyes to the dust kicked up from the missile take-off. It was a beautiful sight. Rhoke found himself smiling at the ignition, his scarred flesh stretching to the limits. Footsteps falling on the wooden ramp, the brunette NCR officer stepped up the mad man that had kidnapped her and then somehow saved the whole town. The missile was already out of sight by now.

"You did a good job under the circumstances." She stated. She moved next to him, looking out at the metal debris where the armory used to be."I'll be sure to get you a doctor while you spend a few days in the city jail." Rhoke looked down, surprised to see that one of his hands were clasped in a hand cuff. She almost got his second hand as well, almost anyway. He lunged away from her as she tackled him. His wounds compounded under her assault and he fell to the ground.

"Stop resisting you bastard!" She gave him a right hook across the jaw, then tried to get him on his back, instead Rhoke continued with the roll, making the two roll off the building and onto the street below exchanging fists and kicks until Rhoke managed to stand up, the female officer right on his tail, and ran down the nearest alley. The metal of the handcuff bit into his right wrist, slowing him down, the NCR woman cursing and screaming and tripping him up the entire way. His wounds were catching up to him, it was a good thing it was his right hand she cuffed because his left shoulder couldn't take the strain she was putting on it.

He looked back to see that she was right on his tail. The younger brother couldn't keep this pace up any longer. He tried jerking the cuffed hand ahead of himself to make her loose grip, instead she seemed to gain speed and actually flew past him. He then skidded to a stop, the officer suddenly falling to the ground and pulling hard against his cuffed wrist. It dawned on him that she had accidentally handcuffed herself to Rhoke during the scuffle.

The NCR officer laid there on the ground for a moment, then her head jerked up, looking at the form she was handcuffed too. She pulled out the key and tried to unclasp her handcuff, only to have the rusted iron key break in the lock. The dirt covered solider pulled back the half that snapped in her hand, and threw it too the ground in utter defeat, the man just sat there, streaked in the same dirt as the officer in the opening of an alleyway on an undisclosed street. The sun had finally set and moonlight bathed the town a dark blue, hiding the dispaird faces of the two unique individuals stuck together in the middle of an empty road.

"Well... shit." was all Rhoke could manage to say.

* * *

><p><em>And here we have Chapter Two all wrapped up in a pretty bow for your entertainment! This ended up being around a thousand words larger then the last one. Expect my updates from now on to take more time. I plan to update at least every weekend but the best laid plans sometimes don't hold up to life. Also feel free to rate and review, my motivation runs on those things. As in, the more you do, the quicker I'll pump out updates.<em>


	4. 4: Death and Taxes

**Chapter Three: Death and Taxes**

Doctor Sara Garrett surveyed the almost-full patient bedroom in front of her. There were ten beds in total, and eight of them were currently occupied. A dozen NCR soldiers had appeared throughout the first day. Three of them had died. The first one admitted, with gaping chest wounds had bled out before the operation could be completed, another had been shot in the neck and was dead shortly after arrival. The third had succumb to infection late last night from a machete wound across the gut. It had been two nights since the Legion assassin had been discovered. He had decided to have his own personal last stand in the NCR barracks using land mines and tight corridors. The three that had arrived at the doctor's office was only a fourth that had been killed in the one-sided gunfight. All for one man. War certainly was a dirty game.

A civilian was present as well, a stray bullet from the fight had lodged itself in her ankle. She would live. Leon was also present, he had come in to see if his brother was present the first night. She immediately threw him onto a bed and treated his wounds, the idiot walking round with five bullet holes like it was nothing. He was staying for at least another day this time, one of his wounds had become infected. Sara had caught it early, so he wouldn't have to walk out of here without a limb.

But if Leon had came in with such damage to his body, what had become of Rhoke?

* * *

><p>About two days ago, Barry the Water trader was making last minute runs through the town of Ira with his Brahman in tow, going door to door through one of the roads in the heart of the miniature city. Little progress was to be made though, as the blistering heat did the best advertising for his product. Alas the sun had set, and business was not to be had.<p>

Giving up, the trader made his way down the road, passing what appeared to be a homeless couple sitting in a nearby alley. A quick motion followed by gunfire rang out from the two figures, the Brahman was spooked and quickly ran off from its trader, who had also become spooked and ran in the opposite direction.

The figures cursed at one another in the night.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe that didn't work." Rhoke stared in disbelief at the handcuff still stuck to himself and the NCR officer. She had just discharged eleven 9mm rounds into the pre-war steel and it had only managed to put a few dents in the metal.<p>

"The fuck is this?" She lifted the chain to her eyes for closer inspection, as if not believing what she was seeing.

"We're gonna need a torch to cut through this." Rhoke said, getting up from his sitting position in the dirt of the alley. "The hell you will, we're going to NCR HQ and seeing if the Captain can fix this."

"And hes gonna tell us that we're gonna need a torch to cut through this. Save yourself the embarrassment." The officer had gotten up now as well. The two stood awkwardly. Rhoke would cross his arms at this point, but that would bring her extremely close to him. She'd probably shoot him for that. His wounds were begging for medical attention, the dislocated shoulder and accompanying bullet wound being the center of attention.

"No." He declared finally, "I need to see a doctor and get a stiff drink." The officer nodded in agreement at the last part of that statement, she had broken a few of her fingers on her cuffed hand in their scuffle. They would require splints. She may have also cracked a rib from their scuffle atop the comm building. "The NCR always have field medics, theres a barracks down the road from here. We could ask them for treatment."

"I don't feel like getting a field amputation of my shoulder. We're going to the local clinic and thats final."

"Our medics are not that bad and its just down the road. The clinic is all the way on the opposite side of town."

"I don't want a patch up job given out by someone that is used to patients dying on a day to day basis."

"The longer you complain about this, the longer it will hurt, lets go."

"No."

"Don't start this..."

"I'm not going to the NCR just so you can have me arrested."

"I wasn't going to... well actually..."

"Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you trying to arrest me for?" Rhoke was furious.

"You held me hostage, launched an ICBM, and royally pissed me off!" She was screaming at him now.

"Goddammit get a room you two." A shout from one of the nearby residents.

Rhoke pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He was loosing his composure. "Fine, then were going to my apartment and I'm performing manual operation."

The brunette NCR officer blinked at this, not expecting this kind of response. "Hell no, for all I know you'd try to rape me from the comfort of your home. Oh god I'm handcuffed to a rapist!" If she was feigning panic or no, Rhoke couldn't tell. He ignored the remark all the same and started on his way home. The short leash he was on stopped him from taking more then one step.

"Where do you think you're going?" She held her place like an anchor, threatening to drown the injured man with her stubbornness.

"Anywhere but here." Was the young man's reply. The officer stood a moment, uncuffed hand in chin. The thought process didn't last long as the brunette noticed a late night NCR patrol pass by. Her smile flashed out the corner of Rhoke's eyes.

"Hey!" She waved her uncuffed arm in the air and started walking toward the patrol, "Over here, I'm NCR!" The patrol, a group of four soldiers of varying rank, walked up cautiously. If anything could be learned in the history of the post-apocalypse era , it was that people were crazy and chances were stupid to take when they could be avoided.

"What seems to be- Lieutenant Howzer? Is that you?" One of the recruits spoke up, glasses on his face and rifle on his back. Rhoke knew he couldn't win this fight anymore.

"Yes, and I'm in a bit of trouble." She raised her cuffed hand for emphasis. "I need an escort back to base to let the medics patch me n' him up." She pointed an uncaring thumb toward Rhoke, who stood silently. He no longer had control of where he was going and decided that vigilance would serve him better at the moment.

"You couldn't just walk?" Another soldier spoke up, a crown of short and green hair on his head. Dye was becoming popular with the new generations.

"This asshole wouldn't let me." Rhoke just stood there, arms slack. He would've crossed them right about now but the handcuffs made habitual body language difficult.

"Anyway, can you take us back to HQ while I still can't feel my broken fingers? Its been a hell of a day and I need some R and R." The four soldiers walked with the two chained together. Two soldiers leading the way, two in the back to keep an eye on Rhoke. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>*<em>Crack*<em>

"Fuck!" Rhoke screamed as his dislocated shoulder was popped into place by the NCR medic apprentice. He had immediately been admitted to the barracks to be tended to by the medics. The inexperienced medics. The medics that needed the practice. He'd rather have a hangover every day of the week then experience this on any of them.

The field surgeon who was watching the whole thing winced. He stopped the next group from coming up, stabbed Rhoke in the thigh with a dose of Med-X, and uttered a quick apology under his breath.

"Okay newbies!" The officer bounced back up, a youthful vigor lining his old face. "Now we're gonna dig the slug out of this young man's shoulder blade. Any volunteers?" About half the attendees hands shot up. "How about anyone that can do it correctly?" All of the hands went down. No wonder NCR troops had higher mortality rates behind the lines then in the trenches.

The field surgeon cut through Rhoke's shirt and undershirt with mechanical precision via scalpel. The man couldn't lift his arm without pain so the surgeon wouldn't ask this of him. The shoulder wound was now bare for all to see, the 5.56 round hidden by coagulated blood and tissue.

"As you can see," the older surgeon started, "The round has cracked the shoulder blade, but not broken through it... How the hell did that happen." The surgeon examined the wound again, with much more interest. He turned back to the combat medics after this analysis.

"Tell this lesson to any of your front line buddies, don't try to load your own bullets unless your certified and have the experience. Leave it to the loaders who work in town or maybe an NCR Ranger if ammo is low. If you try this yourself without any sort of guidance, you'll probably have it backfire into your face, and loose your charming graces." The surgeon stopped for a moment, coughing a handful of times and then continuing.

"This wound was caused by one of your foolish patrolling guards that thought he was being efficient. This is not the case, as a standard 5.56 round would have shattered the bone, splintering it and rendering the user useless in combat. This man is still operable and does not require extensive surgery because of stupidity. Then again, thank god for idiots." Rhoke was getting uncomfortable. This was his trade he was talking about, it was kind of embarrassing. Getting shot by bad bullets was a sort of irony to him.

"Enough talk, step up and watch as I remove this round, you'll be doing this more then enough when you get into the field." The surgeon sat down on a stool, getting the necessary tools to extract the rifle round from the Durant brother's shoulder blade. The field surgeon's lesson took so long the Med-X was starting to wear off. Propping the wound open slightly, the older medic took what appeared to be wire cutters and started digging around in the wound. Rhoke couldn't help but react with small yelps and cries of pain until the surgeon successfully pulled the round out, the blood-stained metal shining ever so brightly.

The wound started bleeding quite a bit, the surgeon found himself rushing to set the wound, using hydrogen peroxide to clean it out. After finally being stitched up, Rhoke turned around, thanked the surgeon, and walked off feeling as decrepit as an eighty year old man. The had given him a white shirt in replacement of his green undershirt and ruined hooded sweatshirt. The Med-X had stopped affecting his perception of pain. _Holy shit it hurts like no other._ His shoulder clicked multiple times as he put on the white shirt on the move.

Rhoke decided it was time to get drunk and stupid and forget the whole thing. He had made it to the guard outside the gate before the sentry stopped him from walking out.

"You're the civvie that we brought in right?" No response from Rhoke, _Maybe I'll get lucky..._

"Captain Weller would like to talk to you. You can find him in the complex to your right." _Dammit._

With a reluctant 'thanks' Rhoke walked off in the direction of the NCR headquarters. Sure the base was small, but that didn't stop it from hosting a significant military force. Soldiers drilled in the middle of the night, being forced to run through courses in the moon light and stay up for about forty-eight hours in preparation for worst case scenarios. Rhoke had read the NCR handbook, it made good reading material for the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Rhoke almost jumped when the brunette that he had been stuck to materialized in front of him. She hadn't been there when he had entered. Three of the fingers on her left hand were in splints.

"Weller wants to have a word with you. Follow me." she commanded. Like a slave dog, Rhoke followed. _Leon usually has worst luck then me, he better be going through hell right now or I'm gonna be so pissed._

* * *

><p>"Sara, I don't need to-" Leon said.<p>

"You're staying, that's final!" The doctor declared. "If I don't watch over that round in your elbow, you could loose your _arm._ You know, your good arm? Don't you still need that?"

"No duh!" Leon countered, "But I need to find Rhoke! You know he usually gets himself in worse trouble then I do!"

"Rhoke isn't here right now, there's nothing I can do." Sara said heartlessly, "But you are, and I am going to keep you healthy even if it kills you, _do you understand!_" She was almost screaming at him. The brothers were not invincible, they couldn't shrug off bullet wounds without consequence. Of course, Sara was worried about Rhoke. _But Rhoke isn't here right now. Just worry about whats in front of you. Maybe I can send someone to go look for him or something... _

"Dammit Sara, let me find my brother!" Leon was getting up out of the bed.

"No, now eat this." She threw down the meal she had prepared for Leon, a beautiful platter of bread, bighorner steak, and Sunset Sarsaparilla. Leon had lost the fight as his stomach started taking over his brain.

"I... Well..." His stomach was eating itself at this point. Forgetting about his brother, Leon started chowing down on the food, starting with the steak.

"One down, one to go." Sara mumbled under her breath as she left the treatment ward. Where the hell was Rhoke?

* * *

><p>Rhoke followed the NCR lieutenant, noticing that it was almost midnight and that his dinner had been left in the middle of a road. His stomach growled at him to verbally confirm what he was feeling. There was no time for such thoughts though, as the Captain's office had finally entered sight.<p>

Entering the door, Rhoke observed a stern-looking blonde man in his mid thirties. Captain Weller with no doubt.

"You one of the Durant brothers I've heard so much about?" A nod from Rhoke. "Good, I was looking for you. Take a seat. Howzer, you're dismissed." A salute followed by the echo of the door shutting made Rhoke realize how small the office he was standing in actually was. The dark wooded desk took up about a fifth of the entire room. The filing cabinets behind the officer another fifth.

"I know, its small." Weller had read his mind, "Its actually an exceptionally large supply closet. I commandeered it."

Finally taking that seat, Rhoke found that he couldn't get comfortable as his shoulder rubbed against the backing of the wooden chair.

"I wanted to talk to you and your brother personally, but since hes currently in the local clinic for multiple wounds from small arms fire, I'll have to contend with sending a certain someone to follow you and your brother. I want you to meet your new commanding officer."

Rhoke's thick eyebrows furrowed together in thought, the only bit that made sense was the bit of information about his brother. Before his train of thought could be completed, someone tapped the younger Durant brother on the shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, he hadn't noticed anyone else enter the room.

Getting out of the chair and turning around, Rhoke was met by the visage of an Arizona Ranger. Thick silver armor with pockmarks and explosives residue, brown duster with serial numbers on the back and an emblem on the arm, Gas mask built into a bulletproof helmet with intimidating red goggles inset at a slant. The NCR's prized reapers, the Legion's bane, the deadliest humans known in the Western Wasteland. And this one had gotten the drop on the Durant brother in all that heavy armor.

The more fearless Durant brother found that he had backed into the Captain's wooden desk unconsciously and was brought out of his stupor. Turning back to Weller with haste, Rhoke found he was talking in a hushed voice and couldn't bring himself to raise it. Weller couldn't wipe a smug look off of his face.

"Why is one of your WMDs in here and what does it have to do with me?"

Scratching his five-o'-clock shadow, Weller replied almost nonchalantly, "This NCR Arizona Rangeris your new commanding officer." The officer slapped two papers onto the end of the desk Rhoke was leaning over. "Congratulations! You and your brother just got conscripted!"

* * *

><p>Rhoke walked out of the office with two papers in hand and a pallor of white he thought his face could never achieve with that nasty scar. <em>Conscripted. NCR Soldiers, Conscripted, We're Conscrip-FUCKING-<em>

Rhoke punched a filing cabinet that lined the hallway with his good arm. A fist sized dent was made into the metal. _And I think I just broke my hand..._ Rhoke was cursing and muttering to himself, trying not to process the information that had just been handed to him. The Arizona Ranger had tailed him the entire time, like a shadow plaguing his thoughts. The human behind the mask hadn't said a word yet. Nothing, not a peep.

Walking into the fresh midnight air, Rhoke felt the news finally overwhelm his ability to walk, he put his back to the wall by the door, pain shooting into his shoulder but he didn't care. Sliding down the wall, he put his hands into his face and tried to make as little noise as possible. A single tear slid down his face. He still had to tell Leon. His hands had reached into his disheveled brown hair, and started rubbing at the base of the slightly curly stands as if a way out would present itself if he thought hard enough.

"Get up." The gruff voice that was heavily accented by some means had finally spoken up from behind an iron curtain. Rhoke looked up at the reaper's visage. He stopped moving his hands.

"We have work to do." It said simply, and put out a hand to pick up the Durant brother. He accepted the gesture, if only because its the only option he felt able to accomplish at this point in time.

"Now move forward." It commanded, and he walked. "I will escort you home." He simply filed this information into his head as he moved out of the gate in what could've been an undead stagger. He floated through the streets he had always called home, the people he could call friends and family, the locations he grew up around. Soon he would be leaving all of it, and that fact had him dragging his feet. He was in front of the apartment building and decided it was a good time to dig for the key.

* * *

><p>Nora Rojas, known as 'Bootleg' by her other rangers appeared to simply watch as she followed the boy up the apartment complex. It was a good thing she was wearing the helmet, or a scowl of vengeance across her tanned face from her assignment would've gotten her reassigned to something worse on its own accord.<p>

It was this Arizona Ranger's turn to take on an apprentice. This was customary of experienced rangers, as true experience can only be gained in the field. Having someone whose seen it all by your side really helps as well. Not only did she not want the job, but she'd have to contend with training _two teenagers _in the art of post-apocalyptic survival. The average ranger took one three in a lifetime, mostly because they died before they got to the forth secession. The whole process took three years overall.

First two years were actually just an NCR tour of duty, but with much more rigorous training to make sure they lived long enough to see to the next year. Afterward when the surviving soldiers get to learn the few remaining skill that make the Arizona Ranger such a feared person throughout NCR territory. How to maintain the armor, how to live off the land more efficiently, little things that make a big difference. They get custom armor and everything.

And here she was going to try to mold this scrawny kid into a well oiled killing machine... It didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon. Not that she wasn't a competent leader, but her chosen apprentices were less then amazing. She hadn't even seen the second one and she was already disappointed in Leon by his file.

Rhoke, whom she was following into his apartment right now, had a criminal record for killing his father. Wasn't actually too unusual in the modern day America. What was unusual was that he was able to save the town from becoming a giant burning fireball yesterday and walk away with injuries like it was nothing. He looked calculating and supposedly unstable in the mental area. A classic case that might one day snap and kill everyone within a hundred meters before taking himself out. His NCR file didn't describe him very well at all. Physical description matched but unstable insanity left something to be had. Maybe her presence was affecting his performance.

Yeah, that was probably it. It usually was.

Entering the apartment, the stench of alcohol actually got through her filters. That was a first in her five years in the service. The file mentioned the two were alcoholics but the smell was _everywhere._

The younger Durant brother yelled for his brother who was perhaps present. After searching the kitchen and then what could've been Leon's room. Returning, Rhoke talked to the female Ranger, still not making eye contact or even looking at her.

"Leon is not here. He will probably still be in the clinic for a few days as well." Rhoke slumped upon the couch, hands upon head once more.

The ranger found that the apartment was actually quite tidy, if not barely furnished. There was a couch and a table in the living room, a wardrobe in one of the corners. Behind the couch was an average kitchen, refrigerator, counter tops, and a stove completing the image. Two doorways on either side of the Table, the Ranger assumed that these were the boy's modest living quarters.

She sat down on the left side of the couch, deciding that she would have to stay somewhere until Leon showed up. Rhoke needed time to heal as well. Looks like she'd be staying here. Better start unpacking the gear.

* * *

><p>Rhoke couldn't bring himself to think about it anymore. The NCR ranger was sitting next to him, still scoping out the place. <em>I'd say its about beer-o'-clock anyway.<em>

Rhoke got up suddenly, moved into the kitchen and started digging through the fridge for a bottle of vodka. Finding one, he suddenly wondered if the Ranger wanted something to drink.

"You drink alcohol?" He shouted, his head still in the fridge, "We've got a little bit of everything in here."

"Just any beer will do." Came the curious reply from the living room couch.

Grabbing one of the newer bottles sitting in the back, Rhoke moved back into the living room to find that the NCR ranger was female, and commandeering his table with her gear. Which problem to address first...

"Here." Handing over the bottle of alcohol. There was no label, duct tape had been put across the bottle with the words 'Bull's Brand Beer' Written across in black marker.

"Home brewed." Rhoke explained. Without the helmet, the intimidation factor from the NCR ranger had almost reversed. She appeared Latino, black hair, large brown eyes. A very young yet defined face that comes with the line of duty. She spoke with an accent, her words flowed together in a pattern common to someone who grew up around the Spanish language.

"I'm staying here until your brother arrives." Rhoke simply sat on the opposite side of the couch and took a deep swig of his vodka bottle. "I suggest you only keep the apartment for one more month, your injuries will have healed enough to start training. We'll be setting off for the Mojave by then." _Fucking wonderful._

"You look like you need some ice for that." The Latino Ranger pointed out, his right fist turning a shade of purple.

"That? Thats nothing, I'll be fine." Rhoke started to get his bearings, trying to relax as he normally would at home with Leon. He flicked on the radio at the end of the table, it filled the small metal apartment with an unnamed pre-war classic. Another swig of the vodka.

The NCR officer popped the cap off the top of her beer and took a deep drink of it as well. The drink left her lips with a gasp and a scrunched face, an eye closed from the strength of the beverage.

"Thats some strong stuff there."

"Bull's special mix, I don't know what he puts in it though."

"He certainly knows what hes doing." Was the reply of the officer.

Several awkward minutes passed. The NCR Ranger was starting to memorize Rhoke's home and habits. How he propped his feet on the table, how he held his drink. How he kept looking at the helmet at the table. All of it documented for future reference.

"You're not commandeering my table are you?" As if reading the Ranger's mind.

"Only part of it, I need to put my stuff somewhere, and I don't trust it out of my sight."

"Fair enough." He couldn't complain. Though he did have to go looking for his minigun tomorrow.

About fifteen minutes passed before Rhoke managed to get a burning question out.

"So, um..." He started mumbling, "What is your name anyway?"

"My name is Nora Rojas." She said curtly, "My Ranger designation is 'Bootleg', you earn one based on your accomplishments over the course of your training." She gave herself a self-satisified smile, lost in some nostalgic thought.

"Good to meet you." Was Rhoke's reply. "My name is Rhoke Durant. You've probably read my file already." Rhoke got up from the couch, he'd had enough for today. A newly acquired inner demon was starting to weigh on his thoughts.

"Turn off the Radio before you go to sleep. If you need a blanket, get it out of Leon's room."

Retiring for the night, Rhoke did not easily find sleep as his mind drifted to the lives he took so easily that night at Frank's club.

* * *

><p>Leon awoke the next day to find that a few of the NCR soldiers had left. Maybe it was high time for him to leave as well. The infected wound in his right arm didn't look too bad, maybe he could get away with...<p>

One of the doctors working today's shifts came in.

Leon quickly dove back into the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, feigning innocence. The doctor quickly made his way over to the Durant brother's assigned bed.

"Before I forget," The doctor said, "Sara said to tell you that your brother is at home. She also said not to go home until you've fully recovered. She didn't say why."

_Sara's way too overworked right now to check up on the apartment. _"She sent a runner to my house? Did Rhoke send anything back to me, or say that he was coming over?"

Before the doctor could respond, the curtain dividing Leon's bed from a supposedly empty one was pulled back, an NCR soldier with a broken arm sitting on the bed.

"I didn't see your brother when I went over." Said the soldier. _So he was the runner. The hell happened to him?_

"I don't know what the hell you two got into but you got a really hot Arizona Ranger lounging around in your house." He explained. "She said to tell you that your brother had been treated medically and to expect to leave town after you get better. She did this as well..." The man gestured to his broken arm.

"A whole lot of that didn't make sense." Leon retorted, "Why would an Arizona Ranger be in my house? If she touches my caps I'm gonna wreck someone." Talking more to himself then to anyone else.

"Sorry man," The soldier replied, "I think some big shit went down this morning."

"The hells that supposed to mean?"

"Up North, Legions making a move for the Dam."

"No shit?" This was bad news, a lot of soldier and refugee traffic would flood in from the North.

"What does that have to do with us?"

"NCR restarted the draft, I think you two might've gotten conscripted, apparently the entire Ranger training regime got kicked into eff-

The conversation continued, but it all turned to white noise as the information was processed in Leon's mind. Conscription. Theres an Arizona Ranger in his apartment, and the government has turned him into a soldier without his permission. _Conscripted... Arizona Ranger... Conscription, government soldiers... FUCKING-_

Leon's left fist smashed into a wooden end table beside his bed, splintering the top of the stand. Splinters dotted his hand and oozed blood. The two brothers would quickly be shackled once again.

* * *

><p><em>And there you have it, the next chapter in the <span>Legion Rising <span>story. I found it difficult to make this long if only because Its between the action parts, I couldn't bring myself to slog out 10,000 words this time around, sorry to disappoint. I'll make sure more progress is made and make it interesting as well in the next chapter. Until then, sit tight, enjoy the story, and be sure to Rate and Review. A quick thanks to those that have already, you handful of people motivate me even if you don't realize it!_


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